


And So She Was Addressed As Mistress

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Aftercare, Awkward Sexual Situations, BDSM, BDSM Smothering, Bondage, Caning, Cock & Ball Torture, Dating, Dom/sub, Dominatrix, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Domination, Flogging, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hard BDSM, Heavy BDSM, Mistress, Paddling, Play Dungeon, Play session, Power Play, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Submission, Tender Sex, Waxplay, Whipping, awkward dating, foot worship, heel worship, human ashtray play, new relationships, tender moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: It had been years since Oliver had scratched this age old itch. The need to simply let go, to let another take charge. He gives in and schedules a session with a Dominatrix. With his regular Mistress having retired, he is assigned someone new...someone addressed as Mistress Smoke.As it would turn out he knows his new Mistress a little better than he'd thought.





	1. Mistress Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote some subby Oliver a while back and decided I certainly needed some more of that in my life. Also I am celebrating the return of Arrow tomorrow with some smutty goodness! Hope you all enjoy. Unbeated so I apologize for any errors! Chapters will be added as I complete them!

A heavy sigh broke between taut lips. It was an exhausted sound, something that was coming up from a body that was drained and worn thin. There was an ache down in his bones and a certain sense of fatigue that clung to his every nerve. It was the results of far too many late nights and one too many brawls. His muscles were sore and his skin was bruised, souvenirs from the fist fights he’d found himself roped into within the last week. He was wound tighter than a new spring, body and mind unable to find sleep, to find relaxation, to find comfort.

His fingers carded through short cropped locks as he screwed weighty eyelids shut for more than the time allotted for a standard blink.

He slumped over the breadth of his desk, facing a computer with far too much information displayed across its bright little screen. He couldn’t seem to force himself to retain any more material, not with the pounding headache throbbing against his brow, and the seething ache in his sockets.

The gentle rhythm of sharp heels on concrete kissed subtly at his ears and the broad man’s eyes shifted toward the familiar sound. The pace was slow, coming to him the way one might approach a wild creature that was both unpredictable and dangerous. He didn’t like that she wandered toward him with such caution.

He lifted his head out of the cups of his palms and stole a glance over his shoulder, tired cobalt irises taking in the company standing only a few feet from him. She seemed to pause just slightly once she realized she’d captured even the slightest bit of his attention. She stood there with unsure eyes that hid behind thick rimmed lenses that were dark and wide, framing her face in a smart little way that made her look even more curious than she already was.

He paused on the eyewear, pupils following the frames’ circles and suddenly contemplating if those were new glasses or not.

The question brewed on his lips before he could swallow it down or even consider its importance.

“New glasses?” Oliver grunted the question.

He really hadn’t meant for it to come out so dry.

He mentally cringed at just how unfriendly the words had sounded as he dropped them there in a feeble attempt at conversation.

Felicity seemed to pause, confusion washing over her face before her fingers habitually came up to address the frames settled on her cheekbones.

Her nose scrunched up just slightly, the way it always did when she was asked a question that didn’t make complete sense.

“Um…nope. Same old glasses I’ve had for months…” She coughed out an unsure laugh, trying to shrug off how uncomfortable this exchange was turning out to be.

Oliver felt himself bristle slightly.

“Ah. I just…thought they were new. Never mind”

The words were short and embarrassed.

Painfully awkward was not even enough to cover it.

He’d just wanted to offer her a compliment, but so much for that.

He was an observant person…and of all the things here he had to admit he was far more interested in observing her than most anything else, but his normally charming and enticing ways were crumbling around him.

Was he losing his touch?

Did he ever really have a touch?

Genuinely at least...or had he simply convinced himself of that?

Maybe it was all just an intricate act and he was no longer so skilled at holding the façade. Especially not around _her._ Felicity saw straight through him as if she were peering through a sliding glass door. She stood on one side, he on the other, and there was no hiding behind something so transparent.

Felicity barked out a laugh that wasn’t completely genuine.

“It’s ok. It’s the hair, changes the entire look of them.” Felicity tried to let the tired man off the hook.

She was kind about letting his stumbles slide.

“Well they look nice.” Oliver said in a deadpan manner.

This had been meant as a light, flirtatious compliment but he had already tripped out of the gates and now it was just a mess.

She shrugged her slender shoulders skyward and tilted her head to the side, offering him a pretty little half-smile.

“Thanks.” She said moving a step closer, taking the half assed compliment and saving him from floundering completely.

“You look exhausted. You really should go get some sleep.” Felicity tried, a soft huff of breath breaking from her throat.

Oliver’s eyes traveled up to her concerned expression.

“Yeah.” He ground out in a gravelly tone.

Felicity’s fingers made home on the large round of Oliver’s shoulder, drawing a slow circle over the grey t-shirt that clung to him. The material was soft and worn, a piece of clothing he obviously used often. She found herself lingering on the feel of the garment for much longer than she really should have. She became enveloped in the warmth of the man’s skin as it radiated through the simple cotton shirt, her mind wandering off into thoughts of just how it might feel to press herself against the whole of it. How warm it might be to be so tightly positioned against it, encased within the intoxicating aroma of the cologne Oliver favored. To listen to the beat of his heart beneath the clothing, just allowing herself to hear it’s every thud, following along to the tune like an enjoyable song.

With that Oliver lifted from his seat and Felicity took her hand back just as quickly, her cheeks filling with a slight hue of pink as she shoved the thoughts down into the back of her brain.

Felicity treaded backward just slightly, allowing for the big man to right himself. His eyes swept over the entirety of her in one quick, almost undetectable movement, blue dragging over her figure, nearly taken aback for a portion of a second.

He really hadn’t noticed the dress she’d worn into the foundry that morning. He hadn’t gotten a chance. It had been a whirlwind of tracking the advancements of one of Starling City’s most notorious gangs. It had been all barked orders, released arrows, and racing hearts. There hadn’t been a moment to really look over one another. There rarely was. Felicity was part of the team, she was one of them, and often Oliver seemed to forget that she was far more than a voice in his ear giving him directions and alerting him to new threats.

But every once and awhile, moments like these stumbled into the light.

Moments where Oliver’s eyes moved unhurriedly over the curves of the young woman before him, soaking her in and memorizing her shape with curious determination.

Moments where he suddenly realized just how breathtaking she was…so smart, so well put together, so quirky…it was nearly painful.

She was adorned in a black dress that hugged to her body like a second skin, sleeveless with a low cut neckline that plunged down between her pert breasts. Her hair was tousled up into a careless bun, tendrils spilling from the elastic tie in pretty waves of corn gold. Her skin radiated with a certain luxurious nature that had Oliver’s throat tightening.

The moment seemed to hang there in the silence of the room for an uncomfortable eternity.

Suddenly the sandy haired man’s collar felt too snug, a heat pooling uncomfortably in his gut that was not a welcome guest.

Oliver beat the thing back into submission and sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Felicity.” He breathed lowly before yanking his coat off the back of the nearest chair and slinging it across his shoulders.

The blonde woman was left standing there, her eyes drawing across the back of her partner’s head, watching him as he took his leave. She sighed to herself and yanked her purse from her desk.

If he wanted to be in a mood, then she was better off just letting him be. She knew the week had been tiresome, but she wasn’t about to pry into places that he didn’t want her to. Best to simply let him work it all out on his own for the time being.

Felicity paused at the top of the foundry steps, the computers blank and the overhead lights buzzing with life. With a flick of her fingers she threw the room into darkness and shut the heavy door behind her turned back.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Oliver sat leaned back in the big chair that swallowed him whole. His eyes fluttered open to soak in the ceiling above him. It was white and unmoving, just an empty space with nothing particularly exciting. He sat forward in a sudden burst of movement, teeth grit up and eyes hard. He just needed something, _anything_ to even him out. He was too tired, too frustrated, too enveloped within the case at hand. He just needed something to take…the _edge_ off.

His eyes darkened slightly as he rested his elbows on the thick of his knees and interlaced his fingers.

Well there was one thing he could try…

Oliver shook his head.

It had been such a long time since he’d resorted to _that._

That was part of the old him, part of his old life, he’d left that behind of course.

Or had he really?

Even just considering it now had an undeniable flicker of excitement growing deep down in the depths of him. Maybe the thing wasn’t as dead as he’d thought…maybe he hadn’t buried it quite deep enough. His thoughts roamed to the heavy moment back in the foundry, when his eyes had lingered too long, when his needs had bubbled straight to the surface. His neck grew hot with the memory, half due to embarrassment half due to something _else._

He shook his head.

He was having far too many moments like such, moments where control nearly slipped and he _almost_ gave into the temptation that the pretty blonde was.

_Almost._

He wouldn’t let the petty flutter in his gut ruin the relationship he’d built with her. He was selfish for even allowing such thoughts to wander through him.

And so he needed to _take care of it._

His fingers delved into the depths of his pocket and retrieved the slender cellular device located there.

Would he even remember the number?

Of course he would.

His thumb danced over the touch screen pad, typing out the well recited pattern that at one time he knew like the back of his hand. He brought the phone to his ear and waited.

Two rings before the other line picked up.

“Password.” Came a slow, gorgeous voice that sent shivers right down the length of Oliver’s spine.

“Velvet.” He spoke the word breathily, rolling it off his tongue with gentle ease.

“Crimson welcomes you back sir. And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” The woman on the other end nearly purred.

Oliver’s lids fell closed as he breathed out a barely audible sigh.

“Queen. Mr. Queen.” He spoke with a hint of a grin in his tone.

“Well, well it certainly has been a while. Now how, may I help you, Mr. _Queen.”_ The woman chuckled lightly.

“It has been too long Anastasia.” He replied.

“I’m looking to book a session.” He continued as he leaned back into his seat, back straightening and legs crossing one over the other.

“I believe I can arrange that sir.” The woman proceeded.

“Is Mistress Kat still available?” Oliver questioned slowly.

“I’m afraid not sir, but I do have a mistress that I think will fit your tastes swimmingly. Mistress Smoke would love to have you as her slave Mr. Queen. I can make a proposal to her and give her your information. She will contact you shortly and arrange for a date if this fits your wishes.” Anastasia said, her voice soft and luscious on Oliver’s ears.

_Mistress Smoke._

Oliver ran the name over his tongue, swirling it around in his mouth, savoring the new taste of it.

It was certainly something he could become accustomed to.

“That would be excellent Anastasia, I always trust your judgment.” Oliver grinned.

“Mistress Smoke will be contacting you tomorrow sir. You have a lovely evening Mr. Queen, we look forward to seeing you.”

“Thank you Anastasia.” Oliver breathed before ending the call and letting the little cellphone rest in his big palm for a few moments.

He had grown used to the sessions exclusively with Mistress Kat for years, a new mistress left both a hint of exhilaration and nerves in his gut. But as he’d said before…he’d buried that old life in the dirt. This was the new him…it was only right that he acquired a new mistress to serve.

He swallowed thickly.

He _needed_ this.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver’s gaze traced over the brightly lit computer screen. He hadn’t bothered to change out of the green suit that clung tightly to the breadth of his muscles. It had been a successful day, two crime bosses wrapped up in pretty paper and delivered in a timely fashion to the Starling City police. But all of that was currently pushed into the back of the sandy haired man’s brain. There were far more important matters at hand.

Matters like the innocent little email displayed in the pristine white box upon the face of his monitor.

He drank in every bit of type, eyes dancing with each drop and curve of the letters, reading it slowly as if to savor each and every syllable.

_“ Dear Mr. Q_

_I hear you are looking for someone to indulge in a session with. I would be more than happy to welcome you into my dungeon. My soonest slot available is Friday at ten. Do let me know if this time is suitable. I look forward to getting to know you._

_Mistress Smoke”_

His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly feeling vastly more dry than it had in the moments previous. He ran the point of his tongue across his thin lips, wetting them accordingly before his shaking fingers made their way to the keyboard. There was a tight heat crawling its way up his throat as he typed out his reply. He could only imagine the powerful woman behind the keyboard, making time in her busy schedule to take him, to have him…to _punish_ him.

_“Dear Mistress Smoke_

_Friday at ten is perfect. Thank you mistress for making time for me. I look forward to getting to know you aswell._

_Mr. Q”_

Oliver let go of the breath he was holding in so diligently. The expel was warm with the heat coming up from his tightened stomach. There was that old twinge of white hot excitement that he had so much missed. The feeling was so lucid, so alive and so very overwhelming. He half wondered why he’d stayed away from it for so long. He may have been a changed man, but that hadn’t altered his need to simply _let go_ and _obey_ from time to time. At one time it had been merely for fun. He enjoyed the rush of giving himself up to a powerful, tantalizing woman. But now, now he needed it for reasons far beyond “casual fun”.

Every single aspect of his life revolved around the constant need to be dominant. He was exhausted. He just needed one night to be nothing but a slave. A night where he didn’t call the shots, where control was not settled in his palms. He just wanted to give that all up, even if it were just for an evening.

_“Dear Mr. Q_

_Splendid. There will be a short screening before we begin our session where we shall discuss your interests and dislikes. Already addressing me correctly and thanking me for all that I do, well, well you are off to a wonderful start pet. I have a feeling I will very much enjoy having you as a slave. Regards,_

_Mistress Smoke”_

Oliver wriggled his fingers beneath the collar of his leather suit, the material uncomfortably warm around him.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the feeling of a presence to his left and a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped slightly and quickly closed the email before his wide eyes met with his company.

Felicity recoiled and gave the man a concerned expression.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you…just wanted to know if you needed a fresh cup of coffee?” Felicity asked innocently.

Oliver breathed out heavily.

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” He stuttered out clumsily.

The blonde woman left him be in several long strides and he cursed beneath his breath. The last time he’d checked over his shoulder at her she’d been planted at her work station, diligently typing, her eyes locked on the screen. He really wasn’t sure how she’d made it from her desk to his without him detecting her at all.

He’d let his guard down for a split second when faced with the sheer excitement and that had been very stupid. He really wasn’t keen on the others knowing about his…personal life.

He needed to be more careful with that.

He was pretty sure he couldn’t possibly be more on edge.

Only two more days and he would take care of that.

Just two days.


	2. First Impressions

His hand trembled as he turned his front door key and locked it behind him. He pushed on it out of habit to ensure that it really was secure and expelled a huff of breath into the silent hallway around him.

The last two days had been a blur, he’d gone through the motions, doing his best not to let the heaviness get to him. He avoided the blonde I.T. girl’s eyes, for fear that if they locked for too long he might act indulgently. This was just the itch causing him to stir like such, once he’d addressed it he would be back to his even keeled self. He wouldn’t have the stress of so long without release. So long without  _ really  _ getting what he needed. One night stands were just not enough to feed the starving dog in his stomach. If he didn’t act soon the beast might take a chance with Felicity and he refused to ruin them like that. So he continued to assure himself that he had this completely under control.

The wait was very nearly over.

Just thirty minutes and he’d be sated.

Thirty minutes and he wouldn’t even remember the Arrow, or Starling City, or all the crime that she held in her breast. He wouldn’t even remember his own name much less anything else.

His dress shoes slapped the floor beneath him, one in front of the other, again and again, his pace hurried and determined. He stepped out into an inky black night, the chill in the air warded off by his heavy coat so tightly wrapped around his shoulders. The night was a frigid thing, unforgiving and wild as it welcomed him in. The sounds of the city instantly assaulted his senses, honking horns, rushing tires and bustling life. It was almost  _ too  _ alive. Everything was too loud and far too abrasive. The scents, the sounds, the lights…it was all too much really.

And so he quickly tucked himself into the awaiting cab so comfortably parked alongside the curb. It’s exhaust poured out into the darkness, headlights cutting through the smoke like knives. The big man plunked himself down with a huff and slammed the door closed, quickly rubbing his gloved hands together to warm them. The heat of the cab was a welcome reprieve as his body became accustomed to the new space.

“Corner of third and fifth.” Oliver said shortly.

He didn’t mean to come off so dry, but the strain and the excitement had him forgetting what was left of his manners.

The driver gave a quick nod and pulled off into the flow of traffic with a rumble of the old engine.

Oliver gently tapped his thumbs together, giving into the nervous twitch as he leaned back into the well-worn seat.

The streets flashed by the foggy window, reflections from the lamp lights and neon signs dancing over the glass. The city was crawling with people out on the town, even on a night as cold as this.

He grimaced.

It was far too frigid to be out bar hopping.

Though several years ago he had to admit he would have been right there with the crowd, stumbling along the sidewalk in search of the next drink of alcohol.

He shook his head.

What a waste of time that had been.

He did his best to relax in his seat, his fingers constantly busy as the clenched and un-clenched them, his nerves getting the better of him. He didn’t remember being this nervous all those years ago.

Maybe that right there was the reason.

Years had passed. He was different as was his Mistress. Maybe for the better, maybe for the worse. It was impossible to tell in that moment. He closed his eyes for a mere second and ignored the cold world outside the cab window.

He allowed the movement from the vehicle to lull him into a half at ease state. There was no full relaxation, not even close...but at least the gentle rock as the cab turned corners and paused at lights was the slightest bit comforting. 

He lost count of the times he’d peered down at his wristwatch, and each steal of a glance was only causing time to move by slower. 

The streets seemed far longer than the norm dragging on and on out in front of the cab’s hood. Each red light feeling like a torturous eternity before traffic was moving again and he found himself quietly cursing each and every one. 

And finally the tires came to a gentle halt.

Oliver’s eyes drew open and money was exchanged before he exited the vehicle. His vision was instantly occupied by the large three-story building directly in front of him. There was no sign, but of course there never had been.

Discretion was the name of the game in such a business.

He approached the simple white and gold trimmed door and after a moment’s hesitation he pressed his index finger against the small red button on the intercom beside the threshold.

There was silence, then a crackle, before a velvety smooth voice drifted through the speaker.

“Good evening sir.”

“Appointment for Mr. Queen.” Oliver spoke the words, a dark, gruff sound clinging to his tone.

“Good to have you back sir. Proceed.”

There was a series of small clicks as the locking mechanisms gave way and the door yawned open. In the open space stood a young woman with cascading black locks that fell gracefully over her slender shoulders in ebony waterfalls. Her smile was wide and genuine as she offered it to him and stepped aside to allow the man entrance. The warm embrace of the building rushed over his chilled bones and he sighed out in utter relief as the door closed behind him.

“Evening sir. Right this way.” The woman said slowly, her tone thick and rich.

Oliver followed her heels, watching as she swayed down the hallway with all the utter grace of a blade of grass in the breeze. The interior was luxurious, lined with expensive gold framed paintings and chairs with plush cushions. It appeared more as a palace than a working dungeon. The walls seemed to breathe with grandeur, like some kind of beast that was too good for this world. Every sight, scent and sound swelled with magnificence. 

He breathed in deep, lungs filling with the new air.

Hints of cinnamon, leather and wood polish filled his tender nostrils. 

The scent alone had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. At one time it had been something he was dreadfully accustomed to. Like the smell of a slow cooked meal, something heavy, something that warmed down to the soul. The scent was like coming home after a long time away. He had forgotten the type of exhilaration it could instill upon him. 

His palms buried into the depths of his pockets, a quiet groan muffled in the back of his maw as he really allowed his surroundings to consume him.

It had been too goddamned long.

Too long away from this indulgent thing that he so desperately needed. 

The woman paused at the doorway to a closed room.

He knew this room. 

Of course he did. 

He’d met with Mistress Kat in this very room more times than he could count. They had shared coffee here, sat and talked about their lives outside of the playroom as well as within. He’d told her fantasies that he wouldn't dare utter a word of to any other living soul. They had formed a type of bond, a friendship deeper than most the ones he’d juggled at that time in his life. 

His breath hitched.

He only hoped that he could possibly have that same type of bond with this new Mistress. He was skeptical that he could ever find that same sense of comfort and trust. That fact left an uneasy feeling in the thick of his chest.

The ebony haired woman stood by the open door and motioned  toward a massive, black leather couch lined with white faux fur pillows.

“Your Mistress will be with you momentarily. May I offer you a drink Mr. Queen?” She asked in a sultry fashion.

“A glass of wine please. Whatever you would suggest.” He said as the woman took his coat and hung it on the rack accompanying several other garments lacking of their owners.

The woman nodded in understanding and was gone.

Oliver slowly sauntered around the length of the grand couch before he eased himself down onto the thick cushions. The furniture welcomed him in like a long lost lover and the breath that came from his deepest depths was heavily relieved. The room was warm and the nerves were slowly beginning to dissipate as he relaxed into his surroundings.

The moments seemed to drag by like things with maimed, broken limbs. There was no clock to watch in the little room. There was merely the set of black furniture and several paintings on the ivory clad walls.

Oliver perked as the main door came open, but found himself nearly disappointed as he realized it was simply the hostess returning with his glass of wine.

She offered him the long stemmed glassware and once again left him to exist in his silent room.

The wine was chilled, yet it was warm as it slid down his throat and hit heavy in his gut. It was a mixture of sweet and sharp, something crisp and no doubt expensive, of course. This place wasn’t known for entertaining those less than fortunate. It cost a pretty penny to rent out a dungeon room, even just for an evening. But at this point the price was of little mind to him.

_ Whatever it takes… _ He thought to himself as he inhaled through his nostrils.

He was willing to dish out whatever they asked as long as it kept him from making stupid mistakes with a woman he had hardly begun to get to know. It was worth it if it gave him back his level head.

His fingers rapped against the couch in a slow, tense fashion, digits falling against the leather one after the other.

_ Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap _

He could sense the telltale sound of sharp heels against flooring in the hallway outside and two muffled female voices. His heart jumped right into his esophagus as he focused intently on the soft, easy tones.

_ Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap _

They were discussing something, but it was impossible to pinpoint what exactly. There was light laughter, a pause, and then more jovial giggles.

_ Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap _

One set of heels made its leave, the clicking fading off down the hallway with all its grace and beauty.

He was only hardly aware that he was holding his breath as the doorknob clicked and turned, moving almost in slow motion. He sat forward, eyes fixated on the door, half of him didn’t know if he was really ready to lay eyes on the woman that would be enslaving him for the next two hours.

But Anastasia knew him.

She knew his tastes, his mannerisms, his preferred play…he had faith that she would not do him wrong.

The door fanned open, allowing a clear view of the hallway and of the pretty woman now so confidently filling the frame.  

“Good evening Mr. Q…” She spoke in a tone that would have had the strongest of men clattering down to their knees.

Oliver’s throat tightened as did his fists.

And then their eyes locked.

Blue on blue, like two stormy oceans clashing together and creating waves unlike anything he’d quite experienced before. It was like a thunderclap that reverberated through each and every one of his ribs. A barrage of different emotions washed through him, flooding his every crevice like the great thing that it was.

Their faces mirrored one another’s, both painted with shock, confusion and something  _ else. _

_ Recognition. _

Blonde waves showering over exposed shoulders, skin pale and absolutely pristine, dark rimmed glasses decorating wide eyes…it was all stomach wrenchingly familiar.

“ _ Felicity…?”  _ Oliver near choked the words out.

“Oliver!?” Felicity coughed, her voice squeaking with utter shock.

“What…you…you’re a…??” Oliver stuttered, his face dropping and his eyes searching for any kind of sensible explanation.

Felicity seemed to right herself and calmly shut the door behind her to shield the awkward little reunion from prying eyes.

“What the hell are you doing  _ here?”  _ Felicity asked through her teeth.

Oliver wasn’t sure if he should continue sitting, stand or just make a break for it and run. He could just tuck tail and never speak of this to anybody… _ ever. _

He mentally cringed.

No, that of course was not an option.

“I could ask you the same thing…” Oliver grimaced running a heavy hand through his hair and shaking his head.

How in hell's name had this gone upside down on him so damned fast?

Felicity gave a long sigh and sashayed to the large chair directly across from where Oliver sat, the leather crinkling beneath her as she took her seat.

Oliver was left hanging on her every move, his initial shock fading quickly as his attention was captured by what the blonde was  _ wearing.  _ Her little frame was smartly clad in a tightly laced black corset with far too many buckles and buttons keeping the thing held together. Each one glistened in the low lighting of the room like a collection of stars against black latex. His eyes followed the outfit down, soaking in the black shorts that were tight against the apex of her thighs, roaming the length of her long legs and finally coming to the dangerous looking heels strapped to her pretty feet. Every aspect of her outfit was black as midnight and  _ vicious. _

Oliver buried his bottom lip between perfect teeth.

This just wasn’t fair.

After a long moment, Oliver’s gaze flicked up to meet with Felicity’s hard stare.

She’d of course been watching him the entire time he’d made a meal of her with his eyes.

The ghost of a smile that clung to her thin lips only attested to that.

“Mr. Q…”

She gave an amused chuckle.

“As in Mr. Queen. Well that makes sense now.”

Her lips pulled back into a full on, glorious smile.

That was unlike any other type of grin that Oliver had seen painted across her cheeks. This one was brilliant, toothy and gloriously  _ confident.  _ It wasn’t like one of her smiles she offered in passing. There was no awkward half grin, no slight twitch of her lips after she’d made a terrible joke. This was the type of expression that only a predator lent to slow moving, easy prey.

Suddenly Oliver was very aware of the fact that he…was being hunted.

From the moment she’d walked in the room she had come to get her teeth into  _ somebody,  _ the fact that this somebody happened to be Oliver Queen did not change her game.

“Well Mr. Queen…”

The way she uttered the phrase nearly had Oliver burning to the ground, each syllable fell off her tongue like liquid gold. Slow, easy and precise.

What kind of game had he gotten himself into? And was he sure he really even knew how to play…especially when his opponent was someone that until this moment he had considered painfully innocent.

Felicity was the cute, awkward I.T. girl that had seen right through his half assed lies and as a result had somehow wound up caught in the hurricane that happened to be named Oliver. She was Felicity who stuttered sometimes and often babbled too much when she got nervous. She was Felicity who spilt her coffee on her desk and cursed under her breath so nobody would hear. She was the Felicity that he’d only just become what one could call ‘acquaintances’ with.

In that moment it became agonizingly clear that he knew next to absolutely nothing about the gorgeous female so daintily draped across the smooth leather.

And in the very same second he was  _ desperate  _ to change that.

“We have a couple of options now don’t we. Seems this was quite the little surprise on both of our ends yes?” She said leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs ever so slowly.

Oliver’s eyes followed the positioning of her knees then snapped back to her sternly playful expression.

Somehow he knew that she wasn’t  _ really  _ directing the question at him and so he stayed silent.

She gently ran her red shellacked nail across her plump bottom lip, mouth painted bloody crimson to match.

“But not to worry sweetheart, thankfully I like surprises from time to time…keeps it… _ interesting.” _

She snapped off the last word with a click of her pearly teeth.

He was pretty sure his heart was beating hard enough for her to hear in the quiet of the little room. It was a deafening thunder in his ears and it was not within his power to slow the pesky thing down.

“Tell me Mr. Queen do you like surprises?”

The question was so quick and pointed that Oliver struggled to even begin to answer it correctly.

His mouth merely bobbed open, sound refusing to come forth.

Her grin darkened with amusement.

“What’s wrong sweetie? Cat got your tongue?” She purred as she leaned over her knees and shot a playfully concerned look in the man’s direction.

“Here’s what we can do, if you would like, I can request a different Mistress for you-…” Felicity began as she sat upright in her seat.

“No.”

The word came forth with more velocity than Oliver had really meant it to and instantly he was embarrassed with just how quickly he’d responded.

Felicity’s eyebrows curved upward and she tapped her nail against her teeth.

“Oh? Are you sure? Y’know us being co-workers and all…” She trailed off thoughtfully.

“I don’t care.” Oliver responded a little too quickly.

Felicity’s darkly painted eyes narrowed and her mouth curled up just slightly.

“I want to serve you Mistress.” Oliver whispered, his tone becoming deep and gruff.

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest.

“That’s Mistress Smoke to you.” She snarled.

Oliver felt a flutter of pleasure surge through his veins.

He’d forgotten what it was like to be talked to like that. To be treated as property instead of a person.

“Mistress Smoke.” Oliver repeated.

“What’s the magic word slave? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your manners.” Felicity sighed in an overly dramatic fashion.

“ _ Please  _ Mistress Smoke. Please may I serve you?” Oliver corrected quickly, his mouth feeling like a barren wasteland of a desert.

She tilted her chin up in a positively powerful, pompous way.

“That’s better.” She hissed.

“Now. Shall we have a little chat before we get started? Mistress Kat informed me of most of your interests, but I would like to hear it from you. So please, Mr. Queen, do tell me…what are your little heart’s deepest desires?” Felicity hummed.

Oliver closed his eyes momentarily.

He couldn’t believe he was about to look her in the face and admit to her the things that  _ really  _ got his heart pounding. The things deep down that you don’t talk about in casual conversation, casual relationships…or anything of that nature.

“I prefer hard play. Nothing soft, nothing close to intimacy unless it’s aftercare.”

Oliver cleared his throat.

God he wished he could gather the nerve to look her in the eye, but that feat was proving near impossible.

Instead he looked at the table in front of her, where she had a vanilla folder laid out over the wood.

A contract of course, something he hadn’t noticed when she’d made her entrance.

But then again he had been slightly distracted to say the very least.

“I understand you prefer flogging, whipping and caning be a part of your session.” Felicity mused, her smile audible in her voice.

She flipped the little papers within the folder and read over it carefully.

“Human ashtray play?” She questioned, her eyes flicking up to Oliver.

He swallowed loudly and nodded.

The young woman made an understanding noise in the back of her throat and read on.

“Hard limits?”

“Absolutely no needles.” Oliver ground out quickly.

“And what shall I be wearing this evening Mr. Queen?” She asked thoughtfully.

“Green leather.” Oliver whispered.

Felicity gave him an amused look.

“Well isn’t that fitting?” She chortled lightly.

He watched the curve of her mouth intently as she pursed it, chewed her bottom lip, and wet the plump skin. What an anguishing and beautiful sight it all was.

His fingers tightened on his thighs, digging into the neatly pressed material of his slacks.

Felicity paused, her fingers laying the loose leaf papers of the contract down. Her attention swept over the man before her and her pretty blue eyes flickered with something soft for a moment.

“Relax.” She said with a smile.

“I don’t bite unless you ask me to.” She tacked the coy comment on with a chuckle.

Oliver let go of an audible groan and the young woman chuckled louder.

“Sign here.” She commanded as she pushed the papers toward him.

Oliver obeyed with shaking hands.

It all seemed like such a blur.

Had he fallen asleep in the back of the cab? Was this all just a very vivid, imaginative dream?

Felicity gathered the papers after his signature had been printed along the dotted line.

“Are you still sure?”

There was that Felicity he was used to.

The soft one, the kind one, the one that asked questions twice to ensure she understood fully.

“God yes.” Oliver sighed dazedly.

And then the Felicity he knew was gone once more.

“Such a good boy. And not to worry…this will be our little secret.” She sneered as she stood from her seat.

“You have an uncanny way of stumbling across all of my secrets don’t you?” Oliver managed through a heavy breath.

Felicity’s hands found home on her hips as she cocked her weight to one side.

“Oh, it’s just a specialty of mine. I am quite skilled at getting all those pesky little mysteries to come forth you know.” She whispered in a sultry tenor.

“And by the end of the night I’ll have plucked every…last…one out of that pretty mouth of yours’…that I assure you of.” She said slyly as she nestled her finger beneath Oliver’s chin and prodded him to look up at her.

Oliver’s neck nearly gave out at the simple contact and his eyelids hooded as he gave her his attention.

“Up the stairs, Room fourteen, undress and wait for me by the door like a good slave.” Felicity commanded softly as she placed a golden key in the sandy haired man’s palm.

“Yes Mistress.” Oliver breathed out languidly.


	3. The Good Slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW this chapter turned out sooooo much longer than I expected...I just enjoyed writing it so much. So oops? I guess? lol anyway please enjoy!!

Oliver’s fingers worked apart the buttons of his dress shirt almost too eagerly, causing the action to come off as clumsy and anything but coordinated. It didn’t matter, he was just desperate to get it  _ off.  _ How he managed to achieve that was of little concern.

He hung the abandoned material up on the hook provided and began on the catches of his pants.

His mind raced with thoughts.

How had he possibly missed it?

Felicity…a working Dominatrix?

He’d never imagined those two words might exist in the same sentence. She wasn’t timid no, not that he’d picked up on at least. She was somewhere in-between, never too demanding but not one to be walked on. She was just…neutral. Or so he’d assumed.

So really…who was the girl behind the glasses?

He was slowly turning over the cards that made up her deck and each one seemed to be vastly more interesting than the last. Smart, gorgeous and  _ dominant. _

Oliver shook his head sharply.

He was letting his thoughts run away from him.

This was just a session. A session to clear his head and give him order again. It didn’t matter that his new Mistress just so happened to also be the newest member to his misfit little band of crime fighting vigilantes.  __

His hands paused as he drew down his fly.

What in god’s name was he doing?

Was he  _ actually  _ going to go through with this?

He could just walk out. There was nothing but a door stopping from doing so.

He clenched his teeth.

There was a lot more than a door keeping him from taking his leave.

None of his reasons were good ones, not even close. He was being self-indulgent, he was being utterly idiotic…and really he didn’t much care. His needs had been doubled with the new addition to this equation and if he was going to be honest with himself there really wasn’t the option of turning back now. The desire was far too strong. The hunger had grown into a wicked thing and if he didn’t feed it now…he wouldn’t forgive himself further on.

He would deal with the consequences at a later date.

 

In that moment all that mattered were the orders that he’d been dealt and his obligation to obey them hastily. He needed to leave his rushing thoughts at the door.  They stopped here. Now there was only obedience and his Mistress.

He sucked in a deep lungful of air.

He was pretty sure he’d never felt a rush like this in all his days alive.

Never had he felt such exhilaration before a session with Mistress Kat. Maybe the first time he’d ever indulged in such play came close, but even that paled in comparison to the way he felt now. With his gut tied in knots and his skin prickling with nervous perspiration it had his head spinning in all the right ways.

Shoes were removed, carefully tied laces undone and allowed to lay limp at the sides of his footwear. He toed them off with a certain sense of slow care as he tried to level his breathing out, taking large inhales and counting to three in his head before letting them free. He bent to pluck off each of his black socks, his bare feet coming in contact with the cold tile beneath him.

It was an uncomfortable shock to his tender soles, a chill that forced its way right up the measurement of his legs and settled in the bottom of his spine. He breathed out through his nostrils and wriggled his fan of toes, trying to warm them against the biting cool of the room.

Thumbs hitched in the hem of his trousers and pushed the expensive material down his large thighs, allowing the clothing to pool in a little heap around his ankles. Each movement was slow and shaky, no matter how he tried to gather himself he just couldn’t seem to swallow down the nerves.

His boxer briefs were the last things to come off, careful hands folding the undergarments neatly and setting them atop the rest of his belongings. Everything was arranged in a precise, pretty little stack on the bench that stood just next to the coat rack provided.

Mistress Kat had always liked him to be neat.

She wanted his clothing folded and immaculate when she stepped into the room.

He supposed old habits died hard.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity tightened the leather strap of her knee high heels, wrangling it into position with a little more force than what was really needed. Her oceanic eyes darted up to the mirror before her and the woman looking back was one she hardly recognized and yet one she loved.

The woman there in the reflection was so strong. She was powerful. She was in control.

The woman in the mirror took orders from nobody and made slaves of even the most powerful people.

The woman there was not some simple I.T. girl.

She was Mistress Smoke.

Felicity stood from her seat and smoothed the gentle curves of the outfit she’d chosen for the night. Dark, forest green leather hugged her every definition, buckles pulled and zippers all drawn together. The skin tight leather pants she’d hauled up her hips really did show off her best aspects she had to admit.

She turned in the mirror, observing her every angle, diligently and making sure that everything was in working order.

She breathed in deep.

Green was quite the interesting choice, she thought to herself as she ran her fingers through her golden locks.

Was this some sort of guilt thing?

The Arrow needing punishment in the form of a dominant woman dressed in an outfit similar to his?

That seemed like a sickeningly Oliver thing to do.

The man obviously had more buried things than she would really like to dig up…but here she was holding the shovel.

She gathered her wits and let out a heavy breath.

This was just a job and he was just a customer.

No different.

She pushed aside the looming thoughts of all the times she’d felt the strain of tension between them in the foundry. They hardly knew each other, still stumbling awkwardly around one another while bumping elbows and working on cases. Regardless of them being near strangers there was still  _ something  _ there that she couldn’t seem to deny. Or maybe it was just on her end.

Maybe she really was just losing it.

She had to be.

No sane person would have willingly taken on this session even with knowing the man they were dominating.

But she could have sworn she’d caught Oliver’s eyes drifting over her on more than one occasion. Stolen glances behind her back, a rake of blown pupils over the spans of her. It was more than just passing observation. It felt hot and needy each time she’d caught him in the act. Of course he’d dropped his eyes and the fire had instantly flickered and died…but still…it was there.

The flames were undeniable.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver stood stock still in the little space, a curtain separating the changing room from the playroom that he knew lay behind it. Though the air here was warmer than the night outside, it was still frigid as it tickled along his naked form.

He shivered involuntarily.

Maybe it was the anticipation more than the chill that was causing his skin to crawl.

He kept his palms placed flush to his thighs, waiting as patiently as physically possible. But the postponement was absolutely tearing him down into pieces.

With his eyes closed and his jaw clenched he tried to count down from ten, once, twice, three times in an attempt to get his heart and mind to cease their constant racing. But it was futile. There was no calm to be had here. He felt like he might just clamber right out of his own flesh, the eagerness eating him alive and leaving nothing but bones.

And then there was the easy creak of the door behind him opening.

His eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his chest, his muscles tensing.

He did not turn around, as much as he desperately wanted to, he dare not take an action without being told to do so.

Her heels snapped against the tile like devil’s hooves, sharp, witty and treacherous. She took her time in her approach, making him wait, making him suffer…she hadn’t even touched him and yet he was already mere putty in her palms.

Finally,  _ finally  _ she came around to his front, her eyes stalking over him like wicked things.

Felicity allowed herself a careful observation of the man standing so vulnerable before her. She kept her dominating demeanor of course, she didn’t dare let him know that inside her heart was fluttering maybe as much as his was.

He was big…even bigger than she really remembered him being. She’d never really taken careful note of just how much taller he stood than her when they were caught up in the rush of crime fighting. He hovered a good several inches over her, even with her deadly heels strapped to the curves of her feet.

Now with his clothes removed, standing so open and exposed, she could really get a hold on the sheer bulk of him. Swells of muscles rippled beneath scar tattered skin, the war wounds interrupting otherwise perfect plains of flesh. She could see his chest stutter with each and every unsteady breath that he drew in and outwardly she smiled…inwardly she struggled to calm the warm sensation filling in her apex.

The need was so clearly splashed across his furrowed brow that it was almost painful. He was so broken and they had not even started. Had just the mere thought that it would be  _ her  _ having power over him worked him into such a crumbling state?

She swallowed hard at the thought.

Her fingers flexed around the thick leather that she held in her hands, remembering what she’d come here to do. She had a job, a purpose, and she was damned sure not going to let a few butterflies in her stomach shake her.

A slow grin spread like molasses across her full lips.

“I brought you a little gift Pet.” She cooed in an endearingly kind of way as she reached up and tilted Oliver’s head back, giving her room to strap the pretty, thick, leather collar around his neck.

“Thank you Mistress.” Oliver breathed quickly, his Adams apple bobbing against the taut leather as she adjusted it.

Felicity looped the strap into place and patted the big man’s cheek twice, just a little less than gently.

“Good boy. Now, are you ready to begin?” She asked softly, her fingers teasing at the large, silver, ‘O’ ring of the collar.

“Yes Mistress.” Oliver recited instinctually.

Felicity hummed in the back of her throat and took hold of the collar, slipping her fingers through the ring and tugging, signaling she wanted him to follow her.

And he did.

He followed with complete obedience. Honestly the man might have followed her right off a cliff at that point if she’d so much have asked. The need to please her to his fullest ability was near overwhelming. Within mere seconds of her walking in the door he was undeniably her property. He couldn’t help the fall, it all just came on so quickly. It was the way she led him, the way she tugged too hard on the leather causing his breathing to be restricted just slightly, it was the confidence in her every movement…all of that combined had him wanting to sink to his knees and do nothing but worship her for the rest of his days.

He instantly regretted every order he’d barked to her while he’d been out in the field. He hated the tone he’d dared used toward her, he hated that’d he’d ever thought avoiding her was the right way to keep his needs from surfacing.

He’d been so damned stupid.

He deserved every bit of punishment coming to him beyond that curtain.

He shuddered at the thought.

Felicity walked him through the silk black material, leading him along like he was some type of prized pet being entered in a show.

Oliver’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, hints of red and ebony invading his line of vision. The low lights sparkled off the equipment lining each of the high walls. Every sort of toy that could have been imagined hung like pretty decorations over the vast space. Suspension cuffs, tables, chairs, chains and ropes all spread out through the brilliant dungeon. The red hue of the bulbs had Oliver’s blood pumping hot.

Felicity forced him to a halt at the entrance to the room, his feet now touching with the plush, beautiful carpet that was splayed out over the spans. She tilted her chin back observantly, as if drinking in everything that he was, excavating into his head and pulling out all the thoughts there.

He huffed out a near silent breath as her eyes clawed over him.

“Shall we go over the house rules Slave?” She snapped sternly.

“Yes Mistress Smoke.” He breathed heavily.

Felicity grinned.

“A Slave will  _ always  _ add the term ‘Mistress’ to each of his sentences.” She began as she slowly stalked in a deadly circle around the broad man.

“A Slave will  _ only  _ address me as Mistress Smoke.”

Felicity paused momentarily and leaned in to nearly press her full lips against the shell of Oliver’s ear. She allowed a long puff of warm breath to flood down the curve of his throat, his eyes flickering and rolling back into his head with the sensation.

“Because there is certainly no  _ Felicity  _ here. Do you understand Slave?” She whispered before taking the lobe of his ear in her teeth and biting.

The sting went straight through him like a kick to the gut.

“Yes Mistress Smoke.” He ground out through clenched teeth.

“A Slave will never look his Mistress in the eye. That’s just plain rude. A filthy animal does not look a queen in her eyes.” She chortled meanly.

“A Slave must obey when given an order…or I am not responsible for my actions or the punishment that will come…” She said as she disappeared behind Oliver’s back.

Oliver’s eyes grabbed at his peripherals uselessly, trying desperately to see her but not daring to turn his head without being instructed to.

“A Slave will not speak unless spoken to.”

The rhythm of her heels stopped directly behind him.

“Stand up straight Slave! Look at this sloppy posture! How dare you slouch when I’m speaking to you?” Felicity barked suddenly, the velocity of her voice causing Oliver to jump slightly.

Her open palm collided with the left cheek of his ass in four quick slaps, the sound reverberating through his pounding ears. He straightened himself obediently, his rear tingling with the contact. His eyelids fell heavily as his mouth parted just slightly.

Felicity seemed to inspect the way he held himself after the correction and was overall pleased.

“That’s better Slave. I will not have bad posture in my dungeon.” She snarled.

“Get down on your knees and apologize to your mistress Slave. She is a very busy woman and is taking time out of her schedule for you, and here you are being ungrateful…” Felicity sighed, flicking her hair.

Oliver dropped to his knees so quickly it left a hard ache in his bones.

She stood before him and turned motioning toward the round of her pert buttocks.

“Give Mistress a little kiss and say you’re sorry Slave.” She commanded harshly.

Oliver leaned forward far too eagerly, his lips pressing against the smooth leather of his Mistress’ outfit. He could feel the warmth of her doughy flesh through the leather, his mouth flush to her rear, placing one too many sloppy kisses, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. He inhaled the heavy scent of the material, getting hints of her lavender perfume that she normally wore. Oliver only now recalled just how many times he’d smelled that intoxicating aroma whilst in the foundry. He’d never really appreciated it, because he’d been so damned hardheaded.

But now it was all he could possibly think about, his brain void of all else.

And then cruel fingers tightened in his short cropped locks and dragged him off his prize.

“I said kiss. Not slobber on me. Disgusting Slave. It seems you really need to be taught some manners.” Felicity growled as she yanked his head back, getting a small whimper from the man’s throat.

“A Slave’s safe word is Mercy.” She hissed as she let loose of Oliver’s hair with a huff.

“What is your safe word Slave?”

“Mercy.” Oliver breathed.

A mean, stern palm collided with his cheek just hard enough to leave a red tinge. Oliver righted himself, dazed after the punishing blow. It took all of four seconds for him to realize he’d forgotten to say ‘Mistress’. He’d been punched, slapped and slugged in the face many a times. Mostly it just made him angry, but now it just made him weak. He was utterly embarrassed with just how much the contact had stirred him.

“Mercy! My safe word is mercy Mistress Smoke.” Oliver panted desperately.

Felicity clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“You are quite a pretty little pet but goodness you are daft.” She sneered teasingly.

Oliver groaned at the insult.

It was a wicked combination of everything he kept locked deep down. Maybe this was some sick little game his body and mind liked to play. He needed the punishment because he couldn’t keep himself under control. He deserved the punishment after all the wrong he’d done. Awful people deserve awful things. And so he’d begun blurring the lines between pain and pleasure…now even more so than years previous.

But seeing her standing there, clad in such frightening, tight, familiar green leather it made everything right. All his tragic little fantasies were taking bloom and he didn’t even care how damaged they might seem. He needed this. He couldn’t go another second without it.

“You aren’t even worthy of being considered human are you Slave?” She questioned meanly.

“No Mistress.” Oliver huffed as he looked up to her from his knees.

“Why don’t we make something useful out of you then.” She nearly spat.

Felicity sauntered across the room, not merely walking, but  _ floating  _ with every long stride she took. She slowly deposited herself into a massive chair across the room, the furniture looking more like a throne than anything else. She crossed her legs in a slow motion that was all authority and power, a long sigh slipping from her pretty lips.

Only then did she address her Slave, who was still obediently seated on his knees across the room.

“Crawl to your Mistress like a good boy.” She snapped.

Oliver did as was obeyed, muscles working as he dragged himself across the carpeted floor, palms flat on the ground and knees still aching from how hard he’d dropped to them.

“Nice and slow Slave.” Felicity chuckled.

Oliver focused his eyes on the floor as he slowed his pace, his breathing absolutely ragged as he finally made it to his Mistress’ feet. She watched him with keen, playful eyes.

Felicity tapped her nails against her chin as she observed the normally powerful man skulk like some sort of dog across the carpet. This certainly was not something that she thought she’d see in her lifetime. Oliver Queen, down on his knees,  _ crawling.  _ This was the man that she’d seen send arrows through the chests of crime bosses. The man she’d seen break necks with his bare hands. Yet here he was, giving up all control and all power to her so willingly.

She could undoubtedly get used to this.

Oliver stalled at the tips of her heels, gaze on the floor submissively.

Felicity wagged her heel that was propped over her knee.

“Clean the bottoms of my heels Slave. Tell me how that tastes.” She ordered, her voice soft and laced with cruel intentions.

He took her shoe in his palms, cradling it as if it were made of glass and very slowly extended his tongue to drag it along the rubber bottom. As he drew his tongue back he was met with the gritty sensation of dirt, a dull earthy taste flooding his senses. He hummed and came back for more, his lids hooding as he pampered the heel provided.

Muffled groans and sounds of sheer satisfaction spilled from his occupied mouth as Felicity watched with intelligent eyes.

“How is that Slave? Good? I presume you enjoy the taste of dirt don’t you, you filthy thing.” She hissed.

“Yes Mistress. It’s very good Mistress. Thank you Mistress.” Oliver replied hastily.

Felicity shifted in her seat.

“Come Slave, kneel in front of me. I have a job for you.”

He shifted his position, carefully avoiding his Mistress’ eyes as he’d been told to do.

“Maybe you’ll be more useful as furniture.” She sniggered.

“Fetch my cigarette.”

Her tone was sharp and demanding.

Oliver followed her pointed fingers to the glass table beside her and carefully retrieved the small gold box. He snapped it twice against his palm before plucking a single one out. He hesitantly leaned forward, over Felicity’s relaxed body and perched the small object between her lips.

“Light.”

His hands were instantly grabbing for the lighter also lying there, very carefully flicking it until the cherry was bright and alive.

She took a long draw, her healthy lashes kissing against her slim cheeks several times before she exhaled a billowing wisp of smoke. The smell burned Oliver’s nose and accelerated his pulse. She looked so authoritative as she indulged in her drug, never offering her Slave the slightest glance. She was too good for him. She was above him. She  _ controlled  _ him.

“Ashtray.”

Oliver began to reach for the small glass bowl also settled on the table before she sharply struck his outreached palm. He drew it back quickly.

“Now, now we won’t be needing that will we? Open Slave.” She commanded.

Only then did Oliver fully understand. His brain was just so slow to wrap around any one thing in that moment.

He shifted forward and opened his mouth wide, eyes lulled closed, waiting patiently as Felicity took another drag.

The woman leaned forward ever so gracefully and hovered the end of her cigarette over the man’s awaiting mouth. She tapped it twice, depositing her ashes onto the sandy haired man’s tongue with a satisfied grin.

The ashes stung his mouth as they fell, the sharpness invading his taste buds potently. He swallowed them down, relishing in the way that it coated his throat and left behind a smoky linger that caused him to cough slightly.

She hummed in appreciation and indulged more, blowing smoke down onto her perfectly kneeled pet.

“You make a better ashtray than you do a pet.” She sneered maliciously.

She held her cigarette forward again and Oliver accepted the offering without question.

His head buzzed with the high of being treated as an object. He wasn’t even worthy of being considered human. He was just a piece of furniture in her lovely dungeon.

The ritual drew on for what seemed like a pleasant eternity.

Oliver’s eyes couldn’t be tempted to be dragged away from her gorgeous form as she partook in the heavy smelling little object. The smoke billowed from her pouted lips so lazily, drifting down to the flooring and dissipating into the dark of the room. Her free arm was draped over the back of the large chair in an utterly careless way. The way she ignored his presence, the way ashes tasted in his maw, it had his abdomen tightening.

He bit back a whine as he felt his cock stirring.

He huffed out labored breaths as he observed her, his shaft filling and fattening without so much as being touched. He couldn’t be bothered to try and will it away.

Felicity made it to the end of her cigarette and looked expectantly to her handsome ashtray.

Oliver opened wide and the blonde gently pressed the hot cherry against his tongue. Oliver groaned out sharply, the pain of the burn causing his eyes to water, sharp breaths coming through his nostrils. She clamped his mouth shut with a devious smile.

“Swallow.”

And so he did.

Oliver forced the wretched tasting thing down his gullet, his eyes clenched closed momentarily. He then opened his mouth wide, his tongue charred black where the cigarette had burned, to show his Mistress he’d obeyed well.

“Good boy.” She praised as she grabbed his chin and shook just slightly.

“Thank you Mistress.” He whispered breathily.

Her blue eyes explored over him, pausing when they got to the meet of his thighs.

His cock stood full and heavy, bobbing before him shamelessly.

Felicity snorted and unfolded her legs, extending her foot to press the tip of her heel against his erection.

Inside Felicity was burning down.

Seeing him so vulnerable was nearly too much for her. Even as she went through the motions and did what was needed, she couldn’t ignore the pesky heat hiding behind her leather garments. Her heart stuttered as she came to terms with the fact that she currently had Oliver Queen’s cock so dangerous pressed between her heel and his abdomen.

Oliver made an utterly embarrassing noise as she shifted her foot, applying more pressure.

“How pathetic Slave.” She scoffed.

Oliver’s neck weakened as the sharp of her spiked heel pressed into his sack and he swallowed down a low moan. His hips twitched upward just slightly without his control, his dick oozing a thick bead of precome onto the top of Felicity’s heel.

She made an utterly disgusted noise and jabbed her heel into his testes with more force. A pained sound ripped from his core in response.

“Your disgusting little cock is leaking on my heels Slave.” Felicity snarled.

It wasn’t little. Not even close. Felicity felt her cheeks heating just at the thought of it. His girth alone had her mouth running dry and her pupils blowing.

But that wasn’t why she was here.

She couldn’t let him see the effect he was having on her.

She removed her heel quickly and stood without warning.

“Stand up. Slaves that dirty Mistress’ heels deserve punishment.” She snapped.

Oliver got his legs beneath him and stood shakily, the taste of ashes still hot on his tongue.

“Hands here.” She instructed as she pointed to a high topped table.

“Bend over.”

He did as he was told, his ass propped obscenely in the air as he prepared for the punishment to come. His erection throbbed with the thought alone, a slow drizzle of clear fluid lolling from his tip.

There was rustling behind him, a pause, then the sound of her approaching once more. His ears perked to the rhythm of leather being clapped against an open palm.

“You feel this Slave?” Felicity questioned as she dragged the head of the crop across Oliver’s backside, teasing along the backs of his thighs.

He swallowed and huffed out, his strong biceps clenched as his fingers were white on the lip of the table.

“This one is for my donkeys…”

Felicity snapped the toy across the bottom side of his right cheek.

Oliver groaned.

It ached, but not in the way he  _ really  _ wanted. This was just a dull thud. A beginner flogger no doubt. This little toy would leave skin red tinged and tingling, but overall it wasn’t the same  _ hurt  _ that he was hungry for.

“So tell me Slave…are you a donkey?”

She snapped the flogger across the spans of his rear in ten short raps, laying punishing blows over the muscled flesh.

“Ah-ah God…” Oliver groaned as he buried his face in the crook of his arm.

“Did I say you could speak Slave??” She snapped as she brought the crop down across the backs of his thighs in harder, more vicious thuds.

It still wasn’t enough.

He still needed more.

“I’m sorry Mistress.” He managed to croak, his voice raspy and strained.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your head.” She directed.

Oliver shifted, his big palms finding the back of his hair as he was left on full display for his Mistress’ viewing pleasure.

She extended her arm, softly guiding the leather of her crop up the length of his swollen need. Oliver gasped and nearly stuttered forward, his stomach heaving as he clenched his eyes shut. The material was so very soft as it glided up his shaft, stopping at the underside of his head the travel up his slit, causing him to flex and whimper.

And then she snapped the crop right on the tip of his dripping cock.

Oliver made a winded sound but didn’t flinch away from the punishment. She seemed to get great amusement from the pained sounds coming through his teeth. She snapped the crop several more times, twice on his girth, once on his sack. Oliver lifted up onto the tips of his toes, hissing and cursing beneath his breath.

“Grab the table again. And don’t let me hear a peep out of you.” She demanded as she slid the crop through her fingers.

Oliver was exasperated as he leaned his weight on the table, his crotch tingling with ache and yet the punishment hadn’t dissipated his strong erection in the least bit. If anything it had made him painfully harder.

There was more rustling as Mistress fetched a new toy to play with.

“And this one, well this one is for my ponies. You aren’t a donkey Slave…so maybe you’re a little pony.” She cooed as she softly teased the reddened skin of his hindquarters in big, easy circles.

The crop zipped through the air as she reared it back and brought it down upon the already abused skin.

That one hurt more.

But it  _ still  _ wasn’t enough.

Oliver groaned out deeply, the sound rumbling up from his thick chest like thunder.

“Mm let me hear you whinny like a pony Slave.”

Oliver pressed backward as he offered her more skin to work with, rolling on the balls of his heels as he did his best to mimic the sound a horse might make. Of course he failed miserably.

“You call that a whinny Slave?? Pathetic!! Again!” Felicity barked the order as she slapped the crop against his skin in a wave of quick, painful blows.

Oliver made another attempt, desperately trying to make a noise that would please her as he stifled yells of agony and absolute, blinding, pleasure.

Felicity backed the crop off of him and made a pleased sound.

“Better.” She announced lowly.

Then she was gone once more.

“This one…is for my stallions…” She chimed as she rhythmically tapped the head of her new crop on her wrist.

“So tell me Slave, are you a great, big, stallion?” She bellowed as she assaulted his skin in a pattern of vicious whips.

The crop stung against his skin, causing him to writhe and clench his fist, crying out in something that wasn’t quite pleasure but wasn’t quite pain. He couldn’t really tell the difference anymore. The lines had been blurred beyond recognition.

She sent the leather across him again and again, bringing ugly whelps to the surface of his skin. His flesh darkened in coloration as she continued to abuse it.

Oliver’s voice rang out through the room, his mouth wide and eyes snapped open. A slim trail of saliva ran down his square chin as he folded his arms and rested his head in them, taking each blow without so much as a complaint.

It was so good.

So vividly good.

It stung, it ached, it was almost too much and not enough all in the same breath.

She didn’t let up, wailing on his buttocks over and over again, her blows hard and merciless.

Finally, after what seemed like hours more than minutes, she halted her vicious attack.

“Mm…seems you are a big, strapping stallion aren’t you Slave?”

“Yes Mistress.” Oliver panted weakly.

Oliver hung as he attempted to catch his breath, cold sweats breaking out across the breadth of his shoulder blades as he heaved. He wanted so badly to wrap the thick of his palm around his engorged member, he needed release so badly. His balls pulled tight to him as a rush of pleasure surged through his body. He was on the edge, right there teetering dangerously…he just needed to be  _ touched. _

He whined out and pumped his hips forward dryly, desperate for some kind of friction.

“Do you have something to say Slave?” She asked suddenly.

“Y-Yes mistress. Please Mistress, I’m so close. Please may I come? Please Mistress I’m so hard. It hurts Mistress.” Oliver rambled out, losing all sense of pride or rational thought.

Felicity pondered the pleaded words momentarily and gently ran the more painful flogger across the top of the man’s groin. His cock jumped with just the slight touch, drooling more fluid down onto the carpet without his control.

His glans were bulbous and enflamed, his cock viciously solid as he begged and rocked his hips pathetically. Small tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he pleaded desperately.

He was fairly certain he’d never needed to come more desperately in all of his short life. 

The fire that had been lit inside of him had escalated into a full on blaze and he was in danger of burning right down to the ground. His eyes glossed over as he stared at the wall before him, his vision swirls of red and silver, darkness grabbing at the corners of his sockets. He wasn’t even sure what to call this sensation. Agony? Ecstasy?

Maybe both combined into a thick soup that was impossible to swallow.

Felicity’s breath was warm on his shoulder as she hovered nearer to his shivering form.

“Now, now Slave…I really don’t think you’ve earned that just yet.” She sneered as her crop dragged down the back of his leg.

Oliver let go of a defeated sound that was half a cry and half a groan.

“Impatient pets only get more punishment…” She continued as she disappeared into the darkness of the  room, leaving Oliver to quake against the table.

Half of him just wanted to reach down and quickly stroke himself to finish. He could take the punishment that it would result in.

His jaw clenched together just hard enough to ache.

No, he couldn’t disobey his Mistress.

He was a good boy.

Good boys didn’t disobey.

A soft jingle announced Felicity’s return to her Slave’s side. Oliver blinked his eyes open bleakly and dazedly looked over the small objects that she held in her delicate fingers. Pretty, glistening little handcuffs.

“Hands.” She commanded.

Oliver offered her his wrists with a choked whimper.

With that the powerful woman snapped the cuffs onto him with two satisfying ‘clicks’. She tested her handiwork, tugging on the small chain connecting the metal bracelets and her lips parted in a malevolent grin.

“Just to make sure you don’t get tempted to touch.” She whispered lowly, her fingertips dragging along the spans of his shoulder blades, causing the big man to break out in goose-bumps.

“Thank you Mistress.” Oliver panted.

“Tell me Slave…how hard is your cock?” She growled the words out nice and slow, leaving Oliver hanging on each letter.

Oliver huffed and shifted, his eyebrows furrowing up into heavy knots.

“V-Very hard Mistress.” He responded lowly, his broken tone betraying him miserably.

She had to admit she was quite enjoying the way he was coming unraveled around her fingers. He was hardly Oliver Queen anymore, his pupils blown and his nostrils flared. He was shaking like a leaf in the autumn breeze, his massive body seeming unsteady and rattled.

Felicity paused to reach down and wrap her witty fingers around a new object.

“Is it as hard as my cane?” She chuckled as she brought the bamboo cane to her lips and dragged her lithe tongue up the length of it.

Oliver watched with eyes the size of dinner plates.

Felicity did not approve of the silence that fell between them.

She snapped the punishing cane against his right thigh with a fulfilling ‘ _ thwap’. _

Oliver nearly doubled over, hissing out at the brutal contact from the toy.

_ That  _ was the ache that he was looking for.

“You were asked a question Slave.” She snarled beneath her breath.

She rapped the cane against the meat of his buttocks.

_ Thwap, Thwap, THWAP. _

Oliver’s mouth fell open in an anguished oval, the chain of his cuffs rattling as he pulled and writhed against the restraint.

Really he could have released himself from the pesky little cuffs if he wanted to. He’d wormed his way out of far stronger, more advanced contraptions meant to keep one bound and tied. But that was the thing about it…he didn’t  _ want  _ to escape them. This was exactly where he wanted to be. On the receiving end of the beautiful blonde’s wrath.

“Y-Yes Mistress!!” He cried out in a winded fashion.

The big man’s knees were weak as he struggled to keep himself upright and Felicity seemed to take notice. She tutted softly in her throat and took hold of the large man’s collar.

“Come Slave, down on your hands and knees, since you are too much of a weakling to keep standing.”

She motioned toward the black, padded mat that lay in the corner of the room and her Slave took his position willingly. He offered his rear to her, knowing that she was not yet done punishing him with her newest tool.

“Maybe you aren’t such a big, bad stallion. My stallions can go all…night…long…standing pretty for me. Yet here you are on all fours.” She scolded, disappointment lacing her voice.

“I’m sorry Mistress.” He apologized, his voice muffled by the cushioning of the mat.

She smiled.

“No, no. You don’t even know the meaning of sorry yet Slave.” She taunted.

She gently tapped the hard end of the cane against his bruised flesh.

“I want to hear you counting.”

“Yes Mistress.” Oliver whimpered.

Her swing was strong as she slapped the heavy stick against his muscled rear.

_ THWAP. _

Oliver lurched, a breathless gasp breaking from his throat without his consent.

“One, Mistress.” He growled the word out from between clenched teeth.

_ THWAP. _

He let go of a long, strangled moan.

“Two, Mistress.” He stuttered unsteadily.

At around fifteen he could feel the sticky sensation of liquid running down the back of his leg. He could only imagine how she’d opened his skin up with that beastly cane of hers’. He could hardly feel the sting anymore, instead it was replaced by a loud buzzing in his brain that made it hard to focus on much anything else other than how  _ exhilarating  _ it all was. His pulse throbbed in his ears as his stubborn cock throbbed beneath him.

How he must have looked to her.

So pathetic, his ass in the air, bloodied and bruised and still,  _ still  _ asking for more.

_ THWAP. _

“Sixteen, Mistress.” He near yelled, his knees shaking dangerously.

Felicity gently tapped the end of the cane along the length of her slave’s spine, getting a slight shiver from the large man.

_ THWAP. _

The cane came down harder, skillfully swatting against the already enflamed skin.

“HAH! A-AH GOD!” Oliver cried out as he jerked slightly.

“That didn’t sound like counting Slave.” Felicity snarled as she let the cane loose across him in a rapid fire of five smacks.

Oliver writhed and pulled at his restraints, groaning and huffing as his hips rotated.

“That is quite the mouth you have on you pet…” She said with a shake of her head and a click of her tongue.

“On your back.”

Oliver lifted shakily and with a great effort moved onto the plain of his back, his face contorted into slight discomfort as he put weight on his newly wounded rear. Felicity seemed to inflate just slightly as she soaked in the man’s expression. If that wasn’t homage to a job well done, she wasn’t sure what was.

“That sting Slave?” She snapped as she swatted the cane across the top of Oliver’s thigh.

The man bowed and moaned out, all the while nodding his head furiously.

“Yes Mistress!” He cried out.

“Good. Now let’s see if we can’t teach you to keep that pretty mouth quiet.”

There was a jovial laugh clipped to the end of her sentence that caused pleasant chills to reverberate through Oliver’s form. The woman stalked over him, those pretty heels carrying her with catlike grace. She was contemplating... only Oliver couldn’t decide exactly what. His heart fluttered against the cage of his ribs like a canary, it’s wings beating wildly as it searched for freedom.

Her eyes were hard and dark as they watched him.

She was pleased, so very pleased.

She was like an artist at her canvas, splashing color over a blank surface until it was brilliant with life. She was molding him into the perfect little painting.

In one swift motion she was standing over him, each of her heels placed dangerously close to his ears. His eyes flicked up to her, observing the mighty way she hovered above him and exhilaration caused his vision to falter.

With that she was crouching over him, her mean gaze never leaving her disobeying Slave. Her digits curled around the thick of his chin, his stubble scraping over her soft finger pads. She tilted his head to the side in an observant little way, a sly grin hung across her slender cheeks.

Oliver’s eyes fell lazily.

Suddenly her fingers moved to his nose, pinching and cutting off the airway skillfully. She then pressed the meet of her thighs against his mouth, successfully stealing his ability to breathe. The smooth leather pressed tight to his lips and the initial shock left him floundering for an emotion to feel.

The seconds ticked by, his lungs screaming for a much needed breath, his back tensing…

And then she lifted, allowing him to suck in a deep breath, the air rushing into his lungs loudly.

“You’re much quieter like this aren’t you Slave?” She barked roughly as she seated herself back down, muffling him once more.

Oliver’s abdomen clenched as he soaked in the feeling of her apex so tightly pressed against his lips. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t act. There was only blind pleasure, something that thudded through him and tore him into ribbons. With each moment she smothered him his blood only raced harder.

She was rough with the way she held him between her thighs and he wouldn't have asked for it any other way.

Just as he was nearly to his breaking point the woman freed him.

Oliver coughed and sputtered, taking in the much needed air greedily.

She only gave him half a moment before she pressed against him once more.

Oliver screwed his eyes shut tightly as his hips rose skyward, his cock twitching with the rough treatment.

The leather was warm against him, hot with her body’s influences. Being this close, this personal, it was the most torturous thing she’d done to him the entire length of the session. What he wouldn’t have done to just peel the leather off of her. What he wouldn’t have done to  _ really  _ have his mouth pressed against her, to get a taste of her…to feel her writhing against him.

He was only barely aware of the dark tinges clawing at the corners of his eyes when she finally lifted off of him.

He breathed in languidly, moving slowly beneath her hold, tilting his head slightly, begging for her body against him once more.

She buried her fingers in his short hair and forced herself down.

“That’s a good little Slave.” She hissed as she rocked against his lips.

Oliver made a muffled sound into the hot leather, his hips coming up off the mat without his permission. Everything was so vivid, the pain coursing through him, his lungs struggling for air, it was all so good.

Too good.

The tight heat in his gut was a familiar, welcome thing as it pooled there. Every muscle in his lower half tightened, his cock growing harder and thicker with his impending orgasm. He needed it so badly, his structure crashing down around him violently.

As she rose from him, he was tilted right over the edge.

Oliver careened upward, a guttural groan echoing off the walls as it burst from his core. His hips jerked and pivoted as he spilled violently over his heaving stomach and chest in hard, merciless bursts. The big man panted and whined as he came undone right there on the floor, so many weeks’ worth of stress unraveling in a few short seconds.

Felicity gently abandoned her seat on the blonde’s jaw and very slowly observed his wrecked state.

His chest stuttered as he drew in several tattered breaths.

Felicity’s fingers ran over the length of the man’s chin in almost a soft little way.

“My, my, what a mess Slave.” She chuckled lowly.

Her fingers wandered over the breadth of his chest, taking her time as she pinched his nipple just a little less than gently.

“Good. Because I’m only going to make a  _ bigger  _ mess of you.”

Oliver’s eyes opened weakly, his mouth still hung in a panting oval.

The slender woman very slowly reached to the small shelf perched beside the mat where her Slave lay. She cradled the large, red, candle in her tiny palms and smiled down at her victim.

The lit wicks flickered in the darkness as she moved, dancing and jumping as if to an unknown beat. The little fires reflected in the whites of her eyes as she dipped the tip of her finger into the pool of melted wax.

She hissed as she drug the digit out, her irises hiding behind those dark fans of lashes.

In his pathetic, broken, winded state…all he could possibly think about was just how  _ beautiful  _ she was.

Her long hair framing her perfect face, her big blue eyes so satisfied with the job she’d done. In that moment everything seemed to pause. Maybe it was the after orgasm bliss going straight to his head, he wasn't really sure, but god it made his heart ache with just how gorgeous she was. 

He was furious with himself for not spending more time cataloging every single one of her lovely features with painstaking precision. 

Careful hands tilted the candle over his chest, allowing a slow drizzle to run from one pectoral to the other.

It stung, but in the easy kind of way.

In the kind of way that was meant for the coming down part of a session. She was wrapping up his pleasure and putting a pretty little bow on it.

He welcomed it fondly.

He allowed his lids to close as she traced an intricate little trail of hot liquid over his weighty abdomen.

He hissed and bowed up into the woman’s advances.

“Such a good pet.” She cooed softly.

The shock to his spent appendage had him writhing again as she allowed the wax to pool over his wilting cock. It was too much sensation but he dare not complain. 

She coated the tops of his massive thighs, the gentle sting only easing his brain further into relaxation.

His sense of time slipped away as he lay there, allowing her to bring him down into a wonderful, level state.

He could have fallen asleep right there if it had been an option.

There was a gentle touch to his bare shoulder and his eyes rolled open reluctantly.

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly.

It was a routine question, he knew that. But there was something different about the way she uttered it. There was something more genuine about the phrase when it fell from her lips. Her voice swam through him so pleasantly it had his skin flushing. Maybe it was just him coming down from the high of the session, or maybe he was just losing his marbles. Either way he did his best not to dig too far into it.

“Good. Really Good Mistress Smoke.” He rumbled tiredly.

Felicity took his wrists and unlocked the metal cuffs, plucking them from his arms and allowing them to rest on the black mat beside her.

Her fingers found their resting place in his sandy locks, combing through in an easy fashion. It was slow, and gentle, in the heart stopping little way that normally Oliver wanted nothing to do with during a session. But in the moments that followed, after the wave had crested and fallen...that was all he wanted.

With her he needed it even more so.

Aftercare with Mistress Kat had always been professional and it had always been what he'd needed. 

But this touch, this moment here... it felt so much more personal. Like two lovers coming down off the high together, her body too close to his, her hands warm on his skin. 

Was this too intimate for a mere session? 

He wasn't about to question it.

He allowed the thirty minutes to be what they were, allowing her to simply caress him and talk him back into the reality he had to revisit. 

He suddenly found himself wondering if it was like this for all her customers....he selfishly hoped not.

He wanted this all for himself.

He needed this all for himself.

“There are private showers available if you would like to clean up a bit Mr. Queen.” She said with a sharp nod.

Oliver frowned.

Mr. Queen.

She’d addressed him as  _ Mr. Queen.  _ Not Oliver.

Of course.

Because this was just a session. This was just a business arrangement, nothing more and nothing less. He’d let himself get carried away. How careless.

He was a customer. This was her job.

That was all.

“Down the hall to the left. Anastasia will work out the rest for you when you see her at the desk downstairs.” She continued.

Oliver stood slowly, his legs weak and his body suddenly feeling all the wrath of her pretty hands.

She nervously brushed her bangs out of her face.

In a few short strides she crossed the room and placed a small kiss to his gruff cheek.

Before he could reciprocate she had already sashayed toward the door.

“Have a good evening Mr. Queen.” She smiled.

And then she was gone.


	4. Blood and Conflict

_BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ_

The abrasive sound fell on nearly deaf ears as the small machine announced itself to the darkened bedroom.

_BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ_

Clearly the little alarm clock was not going to just give up its mission and so it continued on with mechanical determination.

Slowly the big man rolled in the tangle of sheets and comforters, the bedding piled over the mass of his body. His eyes rolled beneath heavy lids, his mind reluctant to be roused from the deep, hard embrace of slumber. He scrunched up his nose as the repetitive sound rang through his ears. A heavy hand outreached for the small clock, smacking blindly across the bedside table before successfully knocking the thing from its perch and sending it clattering to the floor.

“Sunnovabitch…” He growled under his breath as he lifted up on his elbows and scooped it up.

He smashed the off button and clumsily set the little black box back on its resting place. The sandy haired man flopped down onto the mattress with a great huff, his face half buried in the thick of his pillow. It was too early and he was not yet ready to leave the safe haven of the king sized frame. He could rest just a little longer. He would just quickly shut his eyes and steal twenty minutes more of the wondrous slumber he’d found himself moments before.

It was only ten. He could get away with just a bit more shuteye.

With a wide yawn and an exhausted groan he rolled back over, his naked form spread across the great spans of the bed carelessly, one leg exposed to the open air.

The next time he awoke the clock by his bedside read six o’ clock in the evening.

Yet he really couldn’t find it in himself to feel very guilty.

The club could operate without him for a day. The important tasks did not start until after dark anyways. He’d needed the rest. He’d been _desperate_ for it.

As he forced himself out of the tangle of blankets and pillows he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this rejuvenated.

His bare feet padded across the hard wood floor and everything from there was slow routine. He allowed himself a shower, the water a welcome reprieve as it took him in and caressed his every sore muscle. The ache was welcome, a subtle reminder of the night before.

And what a night indeed.

His hands stopped in the midst of his hair as he lathered in a healthy amount of shampoo. Here in the showers’ gentle stream the reality of it all was allowed to slip right in beneath the door and join him there in the private moment. Every bit of the punishment came flooding back to him, the hour of absolute bliss as he’d forgotten himself and simply become a pet. The way his knees adorned small bruises as he had crawled across the floor like an animal, the way his head buzzed with the afterglow of an orgasm that had wracked him beyond anything he had ever experienced...it was all sickeningly sweet.

He should not have enjoyed such a thing so very much.

But he knew why he had. Because it was her. It was the same beautiful, wonderous woman that he had been avoiding eyes with for days. It had been sweet, smart Felicity that was good and just. Because it was her it made it all so different.

And now that the emotions had been let in there was no running them out now. They had wormed their way into the holes of his being and had nestled there in the hollows of his ribs.

He bit back a moan as he allowed himself to remember it all. As he allowed himself to glow in the aftermaths of a deed that he should have just walked away from.

Why? Because he knew himself.

Once he’d had a taste, that would be the end of it. He was like a dog with a bone and he damned sure didn't have intentions of letting go. Not with the sample he’d gotten. Not with the flavors he had been offered.

He already wanted more.

He knew before long the itch would be back and was it wrong to want what he’d had with her a second time? A third? A fourth? A countless amount of times?

He ran his palm over his stubble ridden jaw, water cascading down the length of his throat.

What had he gotten himself into?

He couldn't allow himself to be riled like this...to feel emotions like this. He was stronger than this. Stronger than the temptation. He had taken care of one issue but in doing so had he created a completely new one?

One that would be far more difficult to solve?

He groaned and screwed his lids shut.

He pushed all the wonderings aside in favor of simply enjoying the light, easy feeling the night had left him with.

As he finished and stepped forth from the shower, he caught sight of his big form in the mirror, turning to allow himself a view of the damage that had been done to his backside.

Ugly bruises bloomed like a garden over the swells of flesh, purple and red intermixed with brutal looking lashes where the cane had opened him up. A careful hand touched over the angered flesh and he hissed at the contact.

God it was good.

He couldn’t help the pleasant tingle in his nerves as he observed the vicious marks.

Because he was property… _her_ property.

She’d claimed him, marked him, and made him hers’.

If only if for a night.

He frowned darkly.

Maybe it was better off staying as just a one night occurrence. If he was this stirred after...was it really safe to indulge again? Was it healthy?

With a heavy sigh he toweled the moisture from his broad form and wandered toward his closet in search of one of his good suits. With his clothing carefully pulled up his hips and adjusted to perfection he was out the door.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity’s fingers glided across the keyboard with determination. She had far too many tabs open, screens flashing with information, tracking the motions of a large drug movement in the works. They were supposed to move on the deal tonight…that had been the plan at least.

The young woman stole a glance over her shoulder, eyes colliding with the closed door behind her.

Oliver should have been here an hour and a half ago.

She frowned and stubbornly turned her attention back to the GPS tracker on the screen to her left.

Was he just not going to show at all?

Was it too awkward…being in the same room as her…after the night previous?

She swallowed thickly.

Part of her was positively churning with something close to embarrassment…the other part was something she vaguely recognized. That searing heat of what she could only assume was attraction. A want that she shouldn’t be experiencing. She never got this way with other customers. It was always just a job and they were always just clients. Only he was different. Vastly different.

The pull during the session had been undeniable.

It had taken everything in her being not to act rashly. She’d had to remind herself over and over again that this was a session, that it had to be kept professional. She couldn’t act on the deep burn in her belly. Honestly just the kiss on the cheek that she had allowed herself to offer was even too much. She kicked herself for that little falter.

She wasn’t even sure if Oliver would have wanted her to act on it…

She closed her eyes for a moment.

She consumed herself in the _way_ he had looked at her as she’d treated him like less than the dirt she walked upon. There had been a glorious, mystified glimmer there behind his pupils. His orbs fat with stars as he had worshipped her, obeyed her, allowed her to take control of him.

She buried her bottom lip between her teeth to stifle a small sound of pleasure.

She crossed her legs tightly beneath her desk as a flush crept down her spine and settled in between her thighs. It was a twist of heat that shouldn't have been there. It was foolish and stupid...and beyond her control.

He’d looked so gorgeous down on his knees like such.

Such a powerful, ornery thing giving up all his authority just to please her.

Her fingers tightened on the curve of her computer mouse.

The connection had been so heavy, a moment between two people that was so very rarely experienced. They hardly knew each other, and yet in a matter of a few hours they had ripped the veils off each other’s deepest depths. Where did this leave them? How would he handle it, being in such close proximity with her after... _that._

She just needed to focus on the task before her.

She tried to wrap her head around absolutely  anything but the buzzing things in her brain. But the silence of the room was not helping her case. Diggle was hard and quiet as he combed through paper records and angrily punched numbers on his cellphone, no doubt texting Oliver…again.

And then her thoughts were scattered by the sudden echo of the foundry door coming open and slamming closed hastily.

She swiveled her chair slowly, her fingers coming to press her glasses up her nose just slightly.

He descended down the stairs quickly, taking each one two at a time in his haste. He held two takeout bags in his hands, the paper rustling as he quickly made his way to the computer desks.

“It’s about time. What can’t tell us you’re going to be late?” Diggle sighed as he crossed his big arms over his chest and gave Oliver a less than amused glare.

The big man sighed in a heavy sort of way.

“I got held up. But I brought food and coffee as an apology.” Oliver tried as he held up the two bags.

“Held up?” Diggle huffed.

Oliver turned and shrugged.

“Held up.” He repeated.

Held up, overslept, he figured it was about the same thing.

Maybe bringing food as a peace offering was a terrible idea. But he had figured it was worth a solid shot.

He set the bag down by Diggle’s stack of papers.

Diggle’s eyes watched him with curious concern.

Being around the sandy blonde for the last week had been like maneuvering around a full grown tiger with a toothache. He’d been moody, short and even more vicious than usual...if that was even possible. But now here he was, wearing what could have been considered a smile, a good attitude...and he’d brought food? Everything about that was painfully unlike him.

“Well you are in an unusually good mood…” Diggle grunted as he hesitantly dug into his bag and pulled out a chocolate glazed doughnut.

Oliver shrugged his shoulders up again as he turned away from Diggle.

“I finally got a good night’s sleep.” He said simply.

Felicity felt her heart flutter.

It was a little lie, not that fibs were good to keep between comrades, but to know that undeniably _she_ was the cause of the man’s high spirits had her ego swelling.

And then he turned toward the young woman. Their eyes met, colliding and holding each other’s gaze for a split second. She felt the breath nearly leave her as his big eyes roamed over her slender face.

He plopped the bag down on her desk gently, his hand lingering on the crumpled top where he’d folded it closed.

“I...uh didn't know what type of doughnut you liked.” He said awkwardly.  

Felicity cocked her head to the side and let go of a shy laugh.

“I’m not picky.” She smiled.

“Thank you.” She followed up as she took a slow bite of the offered food and turned back to her screen.

His broad form hovered over her turned back, one hand leaning on her chair in an easy fashion.

“So what did I miss?” He asked quickly, his attention focusing on the screen the woman sat before.

And her mouth was off running, explaining the details of the criminal’s movements, the best action to take, all the routes to consider for a successful surprise attack.

Oliver listened intently, allowing her to inform him of all the new things about the case. She was talking far too fast, some of her technological terms going completely over his head…but he dare not stop her. He just wanted to listen, to hear everything she had to say. By this point normally he would have interrupted her at least three separate times and questioned how solid her leads were, but now he kept his mouth respectfully closed.

She finished and turned slightly, as if to be reassured that he had heard everything correctly.

Oliver nodded his head firmly.

“C’mon Diggle, looks like we’ve got our in.” He barked as he crossed the room quickly, already reaching for the suit hanging so perfectly in its case.

Felicity watched him with wide eyes.

That was it?

That simple?

No backtalk, no trying to talk over her, no arguing with her?

Oliver seemed to feel her pretty eyes boring into his turned back and he shifted his gaze across the room. The confusion was plainly stated across her cheeks, her brows furrowed together firmly.

“Nice job Felicity.” He said quickly before taking his bow and taking his leave.

Diggle looked to Felicity, as if for some sort of explanation. Felicity held her hands up innocently and the dark haired man simply shook his head.

Whatever had gotten into Oliver, at least he wasn't growling and snapping at everybody. Diggle supposed he would take that.

 

Felicity’s eyes darted over the screen before her rapidly. She’d hacked into the security system at the shipyard where the deal was set to happen. She had numerous cameras online before her, giving her a bird's eye view of the surrounding area. The feeds flickered and changed, readjusting and reforming as she roamed over them.

She had eyes on the boys.

She had eyes on the enemies.

She had this under control.

Suddenly there was movement on the left side of her monitor. She narrowed her eyes at the video, trying to make out the new forms that had come into play.

Backup. And a lot of it from the looks of it.

Her heart stuttered and her blood ran cold.

That was far too many men for them to take on. The situation had escalated into an impossible state in mere seconds.

She had to get them out of there.

Now.

“Oliver, Oliver there’s more men to your right. They are armed, there are too many. You need to back out, get yourselves out of there. We can regroup and try again but you need to retreat, NOW.” Felicity barked into her mic frantically.

Oliver pressed his hand to his ear, Felicity’s voice ringing through his head.

He paused, his eyes settled on the deal at hand, the truck stacked high with packages. He grit his teeth.

If they didn't diffuse this now, they wouldn't get another chance.

“Felicity you know I can't do that.” He snarled in response.

“You can and you will, unless you want to be skinned alive, call it off.” She hissed shortly.

Oliver cursed loudly and looked down once more.

He couldn’t let this slip through his fingers.

Call it pride, call it stupidity, but he was not about to leave this to rest.

Looking at their smug faces as they defiled his city, like cockroaches having crawled out of the dark spaces looming there…it made his stomach clench. He couldn’t just let them scurry away to safety when he had them right here in the palms of his hands.

What were a few more men?

He and Diggle could handle it.

“Looks like we’ve got company Dig.” Oliver hissed to his counterpart.

Diggle nodded in understanding.

“What part of _get out of there_ are you not understanding!?” Felicity barked frantically.

“Sorry Felicity.” Oliver grunted as he cut his mic and raised his bow.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later the foundry door burst forth with enough force to cause Felicity to nearly jump straight out of her seat. At a point she’d just had to turn away from the video feed, too angry and too scared to force herself to view it any longer. It wasn’t like they were listening to her anyway. Maybe that was the most frustrating part of it all. For a mere second she’d claimed Oliver’s attention and approval.

So much for that she guessed.

Half of her wondered if that was the real cause of her fury.

He’d swallowed her advice for once without any qualms, even thanked her for her help, only to throw it away for his own impulsive plans. Her eyes darkened as the two men made their way in, Oliver obviously in worse shape than his counterpart.

Felicity mentally scolded herself.

What they’d had the night before was just a passing thing. He may have worshipped and submitted to her then, but that was when she was the other Felicity. This was just the Felicity that was good at getting walked on and fixing computers when they went down. She understood it all now. If she wasn’t the Felicity that was clad in leather and holding a whip, she didn’t have his respect.

Anger boiled beneath her skin at the thought.

Oliver limped his way to the nearest chair, obvious dark stains seeping through his suit at his shoulder and at his chest.

Felicity watched from her desk for a moment before taking several slow step towards the commotion.

Oliver struggled to get the top half of his suit off of him, hissing and cursing as he got a good look at the lacerations slashed across his flesh. The blood painted over his skin, running down his biceps and pectorals like ink. He was a ghastly sight in all honesty. But John was already there with the medical kit, pulling out the necessary items to patch the blonde man up.

Felicity’s eyes narrowed.

He was going to need stitches, that was for damned certain.

Diggle seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he prepared the needle and thread. Oliver groaned out lowly as the other man cleaned his wounds and began sewing them shut hastily.

Felicity wasn’t really sure what to say in that moment.

She didn’t really think that an ‘I told you so’ quite covered it in the way she wanted.

Oliver’s eyes met with hers’, his pupils full of pain.

She frowned deeply.

To hell with him and his stubborn nature. The fact that she thought last night was going to leave them as something different to each other was sickeningly stupid of her.

“I’m going home.” She announced shortly as she stormed across the room and collected her things.

Oliver attempted to get up and Diggle quickly barked out for him not to move.

“Felicity wait.” Oliver near pleaded, his tone half a command half an apology.

That wasn’t enough to douse her anger, not by a long shot.

“Goodnight Oliver.” She snarled before heading up the steps and slamming the door shut.

 


	5. She tasted like cinnamon

Silence had never felt more uncomfortable.

It was a heavy thing, hovering over the spans of the room like an uninvited guest, big, ugly and frightening. It breathed against Oliver’s neck as his body filled out the width of the desk chair he occupied. He was an antsy thing as he sat there, desperately wishing he could take his energy out on an enemy, on his training dummy, on _anything._ But his most recent wounds were not going to allow for such a thing.

So he was forced to sit pretty and _stew._

He scratched at the back of his neck, uneven fingernails scraping over fragile flesh.

Every little sound was like an outright assault to his senses. The dripping of moisture falling from the air conditioning unit and collecting in a small puddle on the concrete floor beneath it pounded in his head. The faraway sounds from the highway drifted in and left his head aching with honking horns and wailing sirens. The rattling of a pipe somewhere above their heads nearly sent him into a frenzy.

His fists clenched where they rested on the desk before him, the skin white around his knuckles.

His skin burned with the tension, like thousands of insects crawling over the length of him…making home in his every pore.

How the hell had he managed to worm his way into a situation like this?

He closed his eyes for a brief second.

Because he had let the itch get the better of him.

The past two days had been less than comfortable with being in such close contact with the blonde young woman. She had been quite successfully ignoring him, save for the times she absolutely _had_ to address him. But even those interactions were kept to an absolute minimum. Diggle was always kept as neutral middle ground. With the other man there, they kept their quarrels to a quiet hum. Her displeasure with the broad man had to be contained to vicious glares and sarcastic remarks under her breath.

But now…with John having gone home early for the evening…they were left to their own devices.

Alone.

Oliver’s gaze crept across the space between her desk and his’.

The only reason she was still here was that her precious system was updating and she dare not leave that alone. And so she was forced to muscle through the dead silence and the uncomfortable heaviness that was suffocating the two of them.

Oliver breathed out slowly.

He hadn’t meant to upset her.

He’d gone with his gut…and of course he had been wrong.

But he just couldn’t find it in himself to admit that to her of course.

Behind the closed doors of that room he’d been in alone with her all those nights ago…it had been easy to submit to her, to listen to her every command. But in the here and now, his stubborn nature had forced its way right into the midst of things. As the Arrow, as Oliver Queen he just couldn’t seem to easily admit when he was wrong.

He sighed.

He turned slowly in his seat, watching the woman as she worked diligently.

He knew most of it was a farce to keep her from having to acknowledge his existence.

“How’s the…er, update going?” He grunted suddenly.

Felicity did not answer his question for a solid five seconds, and really he began to wonder if she’d even heard him at all.

Her shoulders bristled and she tapped her slender fingers against the side of her keyboard.

“I’m pretty sure it can’t move any slower.” She nearly snarled.

Meaning she was frustrated the thing wasn’t done quicker so she could get out of the man’s presence.

Oliver felt his heart sink just slightly.

He should have never allowed his judgment to get so clouded. The moment he’d seen her in that doorframe all dressed in high heels and latex he should have just walked away. That was where this tumble of dominoes had started and he couldn’t stop the collision course now.

The best he could do was try to pick up the fallen objects and attempt to arrange them back in the correct pattern.

If his clumsy hands would allow for that of course.

Oliver hefted up out of his seat and crossed the room with purpose.

Felicity didn’t even seem the least bit phased by his movements, her attention never leaving her computer screen. Oliver’s shoulders dropped at that realization.

He rustled through one of the cabinets at the back wall, moving aside boxes and objects until he got to his prize.

An unopened bottle of Vodka.

Something expensive, something smooth and maybe even something to mend the peace.

He fetched two glasses to go along with the pretty little bottle, the glass clinking together softly as he paused for a moment, pondering if this really was even a good idea.

He supposed it was just about as good as any.

It wasn’t really like he had a back stock of excellent ways of mending his grand fuckups. Maybe he really should start thinking some up.

His heavy boots clunked across the floor, his approach going completely ignored by the young woman.

She did not even look up at him until he’d very carefully set the two delicate glasses down against the plain of her desk with a soft click.

Her beautiful cobalt eyes flicked up to rest on his gruff expression with hints of confusion hiding behind her wide framed glasses.

“You look like you could use a drink.” Oliver huffed in a deadpan manner.

Felicity merely scoffed in the back of her throat.

The big man very carefully twisted off the silver cap and poured a shot in each of the glittering pieces of dishware. Felicity eyed the glass as if it were some sort of viper coiled up on the desk before her, ready to strike her hand at any given second.

Oliver’s massive fingers clenched around the little thing and he lifted the drink to his lips, tossing it down his throat in one quick motion. He hissed as the liquid burned down his throat and hit his stomach hard.

He turned his attention to Felicity and her untouched drink and scrunched up his face.

“Gunna make me drink alone huh?” Oliver sighed as he took hers’ and downed it too.

He shook the burn off and set the empty shot glass down with a heavy ‘thunk’.

“I probably deserve it.” He continued.

Felicity only stared at him darkly.

If this was his idea of an apology, he was doing a downright terrible job of it…but she had to give him a little credit for trying.

She sighed lowly and motioned toward her glass.

“Pour me another one.” She said flatly.

Oliver blinked stupidly and did as instructed, filling the pair once more.

 

Felicity seemed pleased with just how quickly he obeyed her pointed order...but the flicker in her pupils was fast and Oliver was lucky to have even caught a glimpse of it before it was gone.

The clear liquid sloshed in her glass as she took the object in her talented fingers and rocked it back and forth in slow observation.

After a moment’s hesitation she pressed the lip to her mouth and slung the shot back. The fiery drink was pleasant as it coated her throat and warmed her all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

The dreary basement that the room around them was made for a chilled environment, and any type of warmth...whether is be alcohol induced or not, was a welcome reprieve.

She hummed as she closed her eyes and savored the heat it left in her gut.

It was expensive, no doubt with how smooth the stuff went down. But then again she had expected nothing less of Oliver Queen.

Oliver tossed his own drink back with a low sound and was already reaching for the bottle once more.

He looked to her empty glass as if to silently question if she wanted another. Felicity pushed the shot glass toward him with a small nod and the message was clearly received.

Felicity took the strong liquid in and tapped her finger on the side of her glass.

“So what is this?” She questioned suddenly, her tone sharp and stern.

Oliver paused, his drink nearly to his lips.

He sucked the swallow down before he answered her.

“It’s from Russia…” He began before she snorted loudly and it was obvious that wasn't a sufficient answer to her question.

“No. I meant what is _this?”_ She motioned toward the glasses and then to the two of them.

“I’d like to hope it's something along the lines of making amends.” Oliver grunted softly.

“So getting people drunk is your way of making peace?” Felicity quipped.

Oliver’s mouth bobbed open and closed once more as he searched for the words desperately.

“Not exactly…” He mumbled.

Felicity harrumphed flatly and grabbed the bottle, palming it gently as she served herself a very full shot of the liquid.

“I hate to say that it's working.” She huffed.

Oliver cocked a thick eyebrow and gently seated himself on the lip of her computer desk.

“It is?” He asked as she handed him the bottle.

“Don't get too hopeful yet. You still have a long way to go to earn my good graces. Expensive vodka gets you close...but it doesn't buy me.” She said shortly.

A rough chuckle forced its way up from Oliver’s chest.

“Felicity…about the other night…” He started with a long sigh.

Felicity shook her head sharply and held up her finger.

She tipped her drink back, groaning out as it filled her senses with warm spirals of flush.

“Just forget it. I should have known better than to expect you to alter your pigheaded ways.” She snarled.

The words were sharp as they fell between the two of them, their pointed edges slicing at the surface of Oliver’s skin. He’d never heard Felicity speak like that…maybe this wasn’t the Felicity that he was used to here. Maybe this was the other one.

The secret one that only crawled out occasionally.

The one that Felicity kept so safely guarded.

Only she’d _slipped._ She’d let Oliver catch a momentary glimpse of the other one and now he couldn’t ever view her the same way.

“Felicity…” He tried again.

He wasn’t an expert in the art of apologies and this was proving to be harder than he’d bargained for.

She shook her head again.

“I should have never taken on a client that was also a…co-worker…or whatever you would call this. Stupid me, end of story.” She said lowly.

Oliver’s eyes darkened.

“People like you…I usually can read them pretty well. Submissive only when it’s convenient. When they want it, on their terms. A release that comes when they say so. Everything is under their complete control. I thought there might be more to you, but that was judgment clouded by…” She rambled before stopping abruptly.

“Judgment clouded by what?” Oliver spoke softly.

Felicity closed her eyes, the alcohol finally coming to her and causing the light sensation to fill her head. Maybe that was the reason behind the confidence she’d so suddenly found. Normally she didn’t let things like this flow from her lips unless she was wearing heels and holding a whip.

“Attraction, admiration, stupid emotions…who knows. Regardless it was poor judgment. Don’t worry it won’t happen again, listen to me, don’t listen to me, get yourself killed…whatever floats your boat Oliver.” She muttered leaning back in her chair, allowing the drunkenness to come for her without a struggle.

Oliver’s lip was tight as he stared at her.

Guilt was not enough of a word to cover the thing bubbling within his stomach.

“I get it you know, I’m only worth respect when it’s part of your little fantasy.” She chuckled in a hollow sort of way.

Oliver swallowed hard, his eyebrows knitting together in displeasure.

“That’s not true Felicity.” He said suddenly.

Felicity looked at him from her slumped position in her seat with mocking curiosity.

“Oh? Really. Coulda fooled me.” She laughed sarcastically.

Oliver frowned deeper.

“I made a mistake.” He began slowly.

Felicity chuckled loudly and spun her chair slightly.

“Yeah me too, I took you as a customer. I should have never done that.” She sighed.

She might as well have shoved a blade into the soft of his stomach with the words.

“You did pay well though, so I guess it wasn’t a total waste.” She continued.

And now she was twisting that knife, nice and slow, pushing it in deeper.

What Felicity was talking now? This didn’t seem like either of the ones he’d had the pleasure of meeting.

Because this one was hurt.

This Felicity had been wronged and she was letting him know that.

She didn’t mean it did she? That night of the session he’d felt something there between them that went far beyond the relationship of a Mistress and Slave. There had been flames flickering in her eyes, there had been warmth behind the way she’d touched him, the way she’d handled him. She’d felt it too…she had to of. He wasn’t imagining the magnetic draw to each other, he wasn’t that insane yet. He knew what he’d experienced.

She was saying such things because she was angry.

She had every right to be.

He’d disobeyed his Mistress.

It didn’t matter which Felicity she’d been when she had given him the orders, he should have known better.

_He’d disobeyed._

Before he really knew completely what he was doing his body was taking him down from the desk to his knees before where she sat. The floor was cold and hard beneath him, the big man looking so very out of place as he sat on the dirty floor in his three piece suit, big oceanic eyes gazing up at her pathetically.

Felicity only watched, curious as to where he might be taking this.

“I’m sorry Felicity.” He managed softly.

“I should have listened to you. I could have gotten killed. John could have gotten killed. I was stupid, hardheaded, stubborn…” Oliver breathed, his expression nearing something painful.

Like the realization that he was indeed wrong hurt him to admit, tore him apart at his weakest points, and yet here he was…still speaking the syllables.

“I was wrong.”

The sentence cut deep, and the sandy haired man was now bleeding out right here on the floor before her simple seven dollar pair of yellow heels she’d gotten secondhand.

Felicity allowed the phrase to soak beneath her skin, the taste of it strong as she sampled it.

She cocked her head to the side, tapping her fingers along the armrest of her desk chair. Her pupils were wide with the influences of the Russian Vodka, heavy and black with intentions that were unclear. She was an enigma as her eyes clawed down his cheeks and dragged along the length of his chest, causing his heart to stutter. That look alone was tearing him up. Right down the middle, in two perfect portions.

Felicity leaned forward then, her pink painted lips splitting to let a small, malicious smile make its’ way through.

“Oliver Queen…apologizing?” She questioned, the words rolling off her tongue in a sickeningly playful way.

The dark Felicity was coming through, she’d found her way in along with the strong drink. She swelled beneath the young woman’s skin, a familiar thing she made herself right at home. The other Felicity, the one that had been so stirred by Oliver’s rash actions was gone. The one with the hurt feelings, she’d gone home for the evening.

There was only the one with the murky eyes and the dreadfully dangerous smile.

“I’ve got to say…now that is really something.” She snorted in a taunting little way.

Oliver only watched her, his attempt at smoothing over his wrongdoings still splayed out over the floor like a helpless little thing. He wasn’t sure if she’d accepted it, or even made an attempt to touch it. Right now she was just dancing around the apology and it was in very real danger of withering away into the cold quiet of the room they existed within.

“It was my fault. Everything was. Please don’t say things like you regret our session.” Oliver whispered.

It was too vulnerable, the phrase that he spoke, he knew better than to let that come out and play…yet he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t swallow the thought of her not feeling that same something that he had. He couldn’t stomach her regretting it, or that she’d simply done it for the money. He _needed_ it to be something more. He needed for it to have been something that had stirred her like it had done to him. He couldn’t handle the thought of it being less than that.

Felicity’s eyebrow raised nice and slow, in a mean little way that caused the hairs on the back of Oliver’s neck to stand on end.

“Why?” She asked.

Oliver wasn’t ready for that question, he wasn’t prepared for a response like that.

He sat there for a moment, his knees digging uncomfortably into the concrete beneath him.

“Because I can’t handle it.” He replied.

It was too honest.

He knew that as soon as it had come forth.

Felicity looked so predatory in her seat, all fangs and claws and horns. Her fingers gently curled around his gruff chin, tilting his head back ever so slightly.

“Did you feel it too?” She whispered, her strong demeanor dropping if only for a split second.

“Yes.” Oliver didn’t hesitate with his answer.

She didn’t even have to say it. They both knew exactly what she was talking about. ‘It’ as in the burning sensation that spread out through two bodies that had stumbled across each other’s secret personas that were never meant to be found. ‘It’ as in the undeniable pool of molten lust that had collected deep down in both of their guts. ‘It’ as in the passion that wasn’t supposed to be there during a simple session between two people. ‘It’ as in the way they’d had to hold themselves back for fear that they would cross a line that was not meant to be stepped over as Mistress and Slave.

For the sake of professionalism there were certain barriers kept intact.

She knew that.

He knew that.

But this was not Crimson.

This was not her dungeon.

Neither of them were bound by the restrictions of a workplace.

That made it dangerous territory as their eyes tangled together as if they were really seeing each other for the very first time.

Felicity seemed to hesitate just slightly, the battle between her and the other woman residing within her twisting and curling within her depths. Right and wrong buzzed through her brain and caused her fingers to shake just slightly.

It was so subtle that the naked eyes wouldn’t have been able to catch it…but Oliver saw it.

A slight, unmistakable tremble.

And then she came forward, tentatively, slowly, fearful of the action she was about to take. But she was already too invested, she couldn’t just turn back now.

Her lips pressed into his, her hands on his temples and her eyes sliding closed.

Their mouths melded together in a lazy fashion, neither one completely certain, both a little afraid.

She tasted like cinnamon.

The silence of the room had never been more welcome.

 

 


	6. Volatile Components

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to get out! I am in my senior year of college and choreographing my thesis show so time has been limited! But without further wait, here is the next installment.

Oliver’s lids parted in slow motion as he felt her lips leave his. The moment hung there in the air, heavy, on silent wings it watched the scene play out, a quiet observer to something that should not have been happening. But the soundless creature was skilled in keeping secrets. These foundry walls, the high ceilings and concrete floors were all sworn to secrecy. They were not ones to kiss and tell.

Felicity’s eyes were shimmering with something he’d never observed in her baby blues before. It was something bright, something bold, and something maybe a little nervous. But god was it gorgeous. The look seared right through him, getting down deep into his bones.

He didn’t get up from his knees, as if for fear that when he moved the moment might dissipate. He wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. He wanted a firm hold on the thing, and he was not yet done with whatever this was.

From the flicker in her eyes, neither was she.

His ears pounded with blood, his pulse a monstrous thing as it raced through him.

Rational thoughts loomed off in the shadows, pushed away by the deafening sound of beating hearts and nervous breaths.

Her mouth parted slightly as she sat back in her seat, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

Was it right? Was it wrong?

In that moment he really didn’t much care.

All that mattered to him then, was getting his mouth on hers’ once more. He needed the taste of her thrumming through his senses like an addict needed their choice drug. He was desperate for her.

His palms spread out over the tops of her thighs as he rose from his submissive pose. He towered over her form as she sat in her desk chair of a throne. Her eyes followed him upwards, watching each of his advancements like a hawk might observe its midday meal.

He loomed before her, leaning in, eyes half lidded, a certain hesitance clinging to his every movement. As he paused, his body language silently asking if this was ok…

Her smile was answer enough.

It was devious, wide, and maybe even a little drunk…but above all, it was  _ wanting. _

Oliver’s big palms cupped beneath her jawline, his thumbs brushing over porcelain like skin with a certain kind of gentle hesitance that certainly was not usually associated with Oliver Queen. Felicity silently held the breath that had been drawn down into her lungs, her eyes wide and beautiful as they captured the reflections of the overhead florescent lights.

Felicity’s pupils grew big and dark, something dangerous flickering across her expression. It was quick, the dark thought, something that was there and then was gone in a mere moment. If Oliver hadn’t been watching her so diligently he would have missed it altogether.

Slim, treacherous fingers traveled to the hem of her navy blue, flowing dress, the material lying limply over her knees. Her gaze did not leave Oliver’s as if ensuring that he was indeed, paying attention. As if he could even force himself to look away at this point…impossible. He was trapped in her webbing, captivated by her every motion, hanging on her next move as if he needed each one to even  _ breathe. _

The young blonde curled her digits in the soft material of the clothing and dragged it upward, exposing inch after inch of pale, porcelain, susceptible flesh.

She could no longer determine if it was panic, or anticipation painted across the big man’s brow. He looked absolutely entranced with her, questioning everything he’d ever known to be off limits.

Felicity tugged the garment all the way up to the meet of her thighs, spreading her knees just slightly, allowing the sandy haired man as subtle view of the red undergarments she adorned.

Oliver’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Suddenly his three piece suit was entirely too warm, his collar feeling hot and uncomfortable. Everything around him was absolutely catching fire and he wasn’t quite sure if he could outlast the heat.

Was this some kind of game?

Some kind of test?

Which Felicity was this?

Was it the I.T. girl that he knew, or the Mistress Smoke that he had just begun to get acquainted with?

Either way the nerves were rising in his throat and strangling the breath right out of him.

Felicity’s desk chair creaked lowly as she put more weight into it, her legs falling open in an absolutely relaxed fashion.

“What’s wrong big guy? You look nervous.” She purred as she tapped her fingers along the top of her thigh.

Oliver’s eyes flicked from her devious grin, down to her brilliantly crimson panties. He was instantly lost in the red lace pattern drawing over the lingerie, their color mimicking that of blood and temptation. So red, so alive, so vibrant, god even just that small glimpse was making it hard for him to process thought.

Pathetic.

His brows furrowed together in a questioning fashion, but his expression didn’t seem to stir Felicity’s powerful aura. She had him curled in the palm of her pretty hand and the worst part…was that she  _ knew it. _

Suddenly the blonde rose from her chair, the motion slow and easy, forcing herself into Oliver’s personal space. She grabbed the length of his black tie and looped it twice around her hand thoughtfully. She gently tugged the expensive material, dragging the man closer.

Oliver had experienced this scenario before.

He knew how this played out.

This was just like the night in her dungeon…only with less whips and sex toys.

It may have been a different environment, but the act was all the same. She was on the prowl, her claws and teeth out and at the ready. She was stalking toward him, elegant and tactful in her approach of course. She was so dreadfully gorgeous as she came in for the kill that he really couldn’t be bothered to care about his impending demise. He was so star struck by everything that she was that he couldn’t find it in his deepest depths to want to run. He didn’t want to live if it meant being devoured by her.

The point of her tongue dragged across her plump top lip, the anatomy glistening with lip gloss and saliva.

Felicity craned her neck back ever so slightly, bullying their gazes together meanly.

“I don’t think you’re done apologizing.” She snarled breathlessly.

“I’m not Mistress Smoke…” He whispered back, leaning in until his mouth was nearly pressed against the young woman’s ear.

Her smile broke across her face slowly, her amusement obvious in the new expression she wore.

“Then you better get to it Slave.”

The names were almost teasing in the way they were spoken to one another, cheeky, playful, and certainly not as serious as one of her sessions. It was a moment that was so powerful, so intrusive and dripping with tension that it had Oliver’s head clouding.

Before he could consider all of his options, before he could rationalize all of this…his body was reacting. Oliver’s arms entwined tightly around the woman to his front and in one swift motion massive palms cradled beneath her full thighs and lifted her to him. Felicity let go of a sound that was half a gasp and half a giggle as she was taken from the ground.

Oliver was strong around her, a wall of muscle and strength that had her blood pounding against her temples. She had little choice but to wrap her slender legs around his strong hips, her fingers sliding over his shoulder blades, feeling them rotate as he shifted her gently. His pupils were blown and if Felicity dared say it…he seemed undeniably hesitant, which of course was not the norm for Oliver Queen.

This little fact brought a flutter to her gut and a grin to her lips. Her fingers wandered up through the man’s short cropped locks and she found them pleasantly soft to the touch.

As her nails scraped over his scalp, a heavy sound rumbled up from his chest, the tenor vibrating against the young woman.

He covered her mouth with his suddenly, the action frantic and sloppy.

She could feel herself falling backward, Oliver never disconnecting the needy display of affection as he splayed her out over the nearest computer desk. Big hands shoved aside paperwork and other obstacles as he made room for them, Felicity’s bare shoulder blades coming in contact with the chilled surface of the furniture. She hissed against his lips, her dress falling open obscenely as she dug her knees into her partner’s sides.

The cold of the room licked up her exposed flesh, causing rampant goosebumps to spread out over her arms.

The feeling creeping up inside her throat was a dangerous soup of emotions. So much want overtook her better judgment, it was dark and heavy as it consumed her. She was angry of course, she hadn’t fully forgiven the man, yet all of that simply added to the burning within her gut. The anger only fueled it.

He was so warm against her, his body pressed flush to her form, hips making home between her spread legs.

His mouth buried in the curve of her throat, pampering her with warm, overly eager kisses that had her purring beneath him. She tilted her head to the side, willingly offering Oliver more skin to work with.

There was no longer a hesitation coursing through the big man. That had crumbled and fallen to the side as primal want took its place. Felicity arched her lithe body, bowing into his form as her fingers bit into the material of his suit.

Their mouths collided again, hard and hungry, bodies moving and careening against one another.

Panting breaths were the only sound to be had as Felicity pushed his jacket open insistently. Oliver shucked it the rest of the way off, allowing it to drop in an abandoned pile on the concrete floor carelessly. His clumsy fingers worked apart the knot of his tie before Felicity yanked the thing off his collar and looped the loose material around his neck, using it to tug him into her lips.

He smiled against her and she swallowed it down hungrily.

She sat forward just slightly, talented fingers sternly grabbed his belt and undoing the clasp of his buckle and allowing the fine leather to hang open loosely. She ripped the thing from his belt loops and threw it to the side, the sound of metal against hard flooring clanging through the foundry.

Oliver hurriedly undid the buttons of his fly and drew his zipper down.

Felicity nosed against his jaw, her palms unabashedly sliding down the length of the large man’s torso and eventually coming to his groin. Her fingers deviously addressed the hard line of his cock pressed flush to his slacks. The man seemed to weaken with the slight touch, his muscles tensing and a shaky breath expelling through his nostrils.

Felicity’s grin widened as she bowed her neck to kiss along his stubble ridden jawline.

“That’s cute slave…so hard for me already?” She sneered meanly.

Oliver made an obscene noise and bucked his hips against her pretty little palm.

“Yes Mistress.” He panted out weakly.

With that Felicity was very slowly tugging the flimsy material of her panties down her thighs. She gracefully did away with them, setting the red garments on the desk next to them, her eyes never leaving her prey as she did so.

She leaned in once more, perfectly painted lips coming to the sensitive shell of Oliver’s ear.

“What do you want slave?” She whispered hotly, the sound of her words sending shivers down his spine.

Oliver whined pathetically as his fingers tightened on the breadth of Felicity’s hips.

She smiled slowly.

“Tell me slave…do you want  _ inside?”  _ She snarled thickly.

The moan that forced its way off Oliver’s tongue was loud and strangled.

“I do Mistress.” He managed to huff languidly.

Felicity clicked her tongue as her fingers toyed with his prominent erection meanly, witty digits sliding the length of him through the thin material, causing his cock to flex in sudden interest.

“Such a dirty slave, how long have you been harboring nasty thoughts about your mistress? Wanting to be allowed entrance?” She sniggered as she tightened her grip on the thick of his cock.

Oliver deflated slightly, a frail moan slipping past his lips.

“Since I first laid eyes on you Mistress.” Oliver ground out weakly.

It was pathetically honest and he just couldn’t stop the words from coming forth. He had deteriorated from Oliver Queen, into a Slave. The shift was so sudden he really hadn’t even noticed it at first, they had merged into their roles so very easily, without meaning to. Of course the alcohol was no help.

“You better not disappoint me Slave.” She growled as she pushed his slacks downward, fingers hooking in the hem of his boxers.

Oliver’s hands immediately pushed his slacks to his thighs, taking his boxer briefs with them, allowing his heavy erection to spring forth eagerly. Felicity shifted downward, pressing the apex of her thighs against his cock, the warmth of skin on skin radiating between them rapidly.

Oliver’s big arms caged her to the desk as he hovered over her, ripping the loose material of her dress upward, exposing her pale flesh to the open air. His large fingers caressed her inner thigh, wasting little time before his thumb was sliding the length of her glistening slit. She was so wet and ready, her folds beautifully pink, her clit swollen and fat.

He swallowed hard.

It had his head spinning to know that despite everything, she wanted him just as desperately as he wanted her.

He allowed himself several slow, lazy strokes to his fat length as his index finger curled within the thin woman. Felicity purred into the advance, her hips rotating toward him in approval. The pad of his thumb slowly stroked her sensitive bundle of nerves, gathering pleasant sighs and moans from her open mouth.

He pushed their mouths together once more, needing to taste her more than he needed to breathe.

Her perfect teeth captured his bottom lip, pinching it softly as he kissed her hard.

With that he was removing his slicked fingers, feet stuttering forward as he teased the head of his cock against her slit.

They groaned in unison as he entered her in one hard thrust, the warmth of her body enveloping him and instantly causing his mind to scatter. He couldn’t seem to hold onto any one rational thought, each one slipping right out of his hold before he could get his fingers around it.

She was tight and hot around him, his cock swelling with the pleasure of it all.

“Ah-god…Felicity…” He moaned out lowly, his hips rocking forward in experimentation.

Felicity arched beneath him, beautifully painted fingernails scraping down his dress shirt as she threw her head back.

Oliver was big within her, stretching her in all of the right ways, sending her heart off to the races with no hopes of slowing down. She opened her eyes slowly, looking to his questioning expression. He was still fighting the right and wrong of this and she did not have time for him to question. She just needed it, she needed it rough and hard. She wanted every primal aspect of the deed.

“Just fuck me.” She barked suddenly.

Oliver’s eyes darkened.

“Yes Mistress.”

Oliver’s hips snapped forward, thrusting into the tight space provided, the wet slap of bodies coming together reverberating out through the foundry walls. Felicity’s voice rose to an ear piercing level, her fingers tightening in his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto for the ride.

Her mouth fell open in an absolutely satisfied oval, crying out Oliver’s name as if it were all she knew.

Oliver was desperate for the syllables of his own name on her tongue. The way her lips formed around them so beautifully. He’d never heard her say his name like  _ that.  _ It was dangerously good.

The desk rattled beneath their bodies, shaking a coffee cup from its surface and sending it clattering to the floor. They paid little mind to the spilt liquid, there were more pressing matters at hand.

Sweat pricked at the big man’s hairline, the temperature of the room suddenly rising to an uncomfortable level. Their hearts raced in unison, mouths devouring one another, bodies rutting like animals. The act was sickeningly dirty.

Obscene phrases falling from overly pleasured tongues.

Felicity’s wetness slid down the length of her thigh as Oliver fucked into her, her entrance soaked and swollen with the act at hand.

Oliver’s fingers entwined with the young woman’s, their digits lacing together in a tightly tangled knot as he whispered to her how tight her pussy was. The breathless sentences coming from his throat had her squirming and writhing into his every hump.

His free hand found its way to her sensitive clit once more, drawing quick little circles over the tender anatomy. The action had Felicity nearly coming off the table, her fingers pressed into him, her knees locked around his hips. He prodded her to the very brink of the edge, whispering filth into her ear hotly as he moved against her.

Felicity felt her muscles tighten, everything in her seeming to pause as orgasm took hold of her. The tight heat swirled through the pit of her stomach, her thighs tensing and her mouth hanging open. Like a clap of thunder it was suddenly dropping down upon her. Everything unraveled in a mere several seconds.

She fell apart around Oliver, crying out his name over and over again, her voice loud and pleasured.

Her walls flexed around the breadth of his cock as she came, as if her body was simply trying to drag him in farther.

With his partner brought to her glorious finish, his own end crept slowly into his core. His thumbs dug into the divots of the young woman’s hips, bringing her into every pump of his hips.

He leaned over her, his breathing ragged and strained.

She could see it in his eyes how close he was, her fingers gently running through his blonde locks as his orbs rolled closed.

With a string of curses his end crashed down upon him.

The pleasure of finish rushed through his bones as he buried himself within her, moaning lowly as his cock swelled. With a stutter of his hips he unloaded within her core, powerful ropes of come filling her mercilessly.

His fingers grabbed at her as he thrust halfheartedly, riding out each expel, shuddering as the rolling aftermaths of orgasm shook through him.

Oliver leaned on shaking elbows, his eyes screwed shut as he panted into the tepid air. Felicity’s arms hung in lethargic loops around the big man’s neck, both of them glowing in the aftermaths of the deed they had carried out, both viciously satisfied.

Felicity’s eyes rolled open, catching sight of the disheveled man above her…and reality crashed down upon her.

She’d just slept with her partner, somewhat of her boss, and her customer.

She shouldn’t have done this.

She’d been so goddamned weak.

“Fuck.” Felicity snarled as she sat up suddenly, refusing to meet eyes with the man still snugly buried within her.

Oliver’s lazy expression traveled up to her flushed cheeks and immediately detected there was something wrong as he drank in her furrowed brows.

“What? What’s wrong?” He questioned tiredly.

“This. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Felicity scoffed shaking her head and pushing on Oliver’s chest.

Oliver pulled himself from her in confusion and gave the young woman some room.

Felicity caught sight of Oliver’s concerned face and instantly felt the guilt rush over her. How dare she do this? This only complicated everything. How could she be such a fool?

“This shouldn’t have happened.” She whispered as she hurriedly grabbed her panties and shimmied them back up her legs.

She smoothed her dress and got her feet beneath her, trying her hardest to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of wetness between her thighs.

“Felicity…” Oliver whispered in confusion.

The young blonde cursed herself as she observed her partner.

He looked absolutely horrified, a loss for words washing over him. Seconds before they’d been sharing the high of orgasm together and now suddenly she was ripping on her clothing like the man had done nothing but wrong to her.

“Did I do something wrong?” Oliver tried, his brows knitted together in genuine concern.

He attempted to reach for the young woman’s wrist.

Out of instinct she ripped it away from his hold.

“I’m sorry…” Oliver tried then, clearly at a loss for what action to take next.

“Stop.” Felicity barked suddenly, then cursed and shook her head.

There was no reason to attack him, she’d started this. Of course she had. She’d stupidly thought this could be ok. It wasn’t.

That was the first rule of her code.

Don’t sleep with a submissive.

That only made everything vastly more complicated. In her early days of becoming a Mistress…she’d made that mistake. It had only fallen apart and ended in catastrophe. And Oliver was more than just a simple paying customer. He was what she considered somewhat of a friend, The Arrow, the one calling the shots in this entire vigilante operation.

God what had she done?

“I just…it’s not you. You didn’t do anything. I just…I need to leave.” Felicity rambled as she attempted to collect her things.

“Felicity I’m sorry…I thought…I thought this was ok. I thought you wanted it…” Oliver pleaded as he shamefully tucked his flaccid cock back into his trousers.

“Stop. Stop apologizing.” Felicity snapped suddenly.

Oliver stood there watching her with regretful eyes.

Felicity stopped as she grabbed her purse and sighed out heavily.

“I don’t sleep with customers. I don’t sleep with comrades. This will complicate  _ everything.  _ I can’t. I’m sorry. A session is one thing but…I…I can’t do this…” She rambled as she ran a frustrated hand through her hair.

“I don’t know what got into me.”

Lie number one. She knew what had gotten into her, desire, that burning sensation of heat that spread out from her cheeks to her neck every time Oliver came into the room. It was that gut wrenching twist that developed when they locked eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated…I won’t come back for another session.” Oliver tried feebly.

Felicity shook her head.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t, but that doesn’t change that we work together…or whatever this is. It’s too much.” Felicity said with a shake of her head.

Oliver looked absolutely pathetic as he stood there, a defeated look dripping off his face and Felicity had never felt sicker with herself. She never should have done this to him. She knew how he felt; she just used it to her advantage. She was so selfish.

Oliver nodded slowly.

He wasn’t going to argue with her, he was only sorry that the night had taken such a turn. He thought there was some sort of connection there, the way they had come together so viciously…it had all felt so right.

The two Felicity’s were battling one another behind the woman’s eyes.

The pull between them was too much for her.

“I just…I have to go.” She sighed as she put her phone to her ear, calling for her nightly cab.

Oliver’s shoulders dropped as he watched her.

What had changed in not so many seconds? One moment they are tangled in each other, praying each other’s name like their very lives depended on it…and now she was running away, standing a safe distance from him as if he were a danger of some sort.

“Can I at least walk you to your cab?” He tried softly.

Felicity nodded and turned toward the foundry steps.

The walk was spent in silence, the two of them standing there in the dark as headlights cut through the shadows. The cab rumbled to a stop and Felicity turned to the man at her left.

His eyes were sullen and dark, pupils that only a short time before were blown with absolute ecstasy…but she’d taken that all away.

She didn’t utter a word before entering the vehicle. She couldn’t seem to find them. What could she say? It was futile to try to make up for what she’d done.

Oliver simply let her go, unsure of where it had all gotten so derailed.

Felicity couldn’t seem to get the man’s expression out of her head, even as the cab pulled away…it was still burned into her brain.

  
  
  



	7. Making Amends

Felicity’s heels clacked against the hardwood floor beneath her. She ran a hand through her wave of golden ringlets, all perfectly styled and primped. Her customer of the evening was into girls with curls, and so on Wednesdays she became a curly haired little thing ready to bring him down to his knees in submission. She smoothed her palms over the length of her black corset and sighed. It had been a successful session of course, her sessions were always pristine. Her customers never left her dungeon disappointed.

Never.

Her feet carried her to the small office just next to the door.

Her eyes met with Anastasia’s for a moment and the other woman smiled casually at her.

“How was Mr. Taggart’s session? He behaved himself I presume?” Anastasia chuckled lightly.

Felicity smiled genuinely in return.

“He was on his best behavior.” She nodded.

Felicity’s fingers found the appointment folder on the marble desk and she casually flipped through the loose leaf paper. She breathed in deep, she knew she didn’t have any more appointments for the evening. She knew that…but every night she checked anyway. Part of her almost  _ wanted  _ to see his name there, if only a small part.

She knew it wouldn’t be there of course.

He’d stayed true to his word, it had been three months and he’d not made a single appointment with her.

Felicity felt her heart drop.

They hadn’t once talked about what had happened in the foundry. Oliver seemed determined to forget it had ever happened and she supposed that was the part that hurt the most. He didn’t look at her the same way he’d used to. Now he simply avoided eyes with her…as if looking into her pupils might just turn him into stone. Honestly it might have been a safe bet on his part. So many times she wanted to bring it up, she wanted to apologize, she wanted to make it right…but how do you mend something like that? 

She’d frightened herself.

The one relationship she’d ever had with a client had deteriorated into such a messy thing…she was so afraid of that happening all over again.

It hadn’t changed the stir deep down in her gut that she got when the man was close to her. A brush of his fingers against hers’ still nearly had her crumbling down around herself. She hated herself for it. To have led him on in such a painful way. She knew it hurt.

She could see the sting still settled in the way that he avoided getting too close to her at all costs. Treating her like some wild thing that could bite at any moment.

She closed her eyes.

She’d sliced deep this time and there was no way she could take the knife out now. He had drawn himself back into that shell of a man he’d been when she had first come onto the team. He didn’t get too close and he didn’t say too much and the thought alone had Felicity’s stomach churning.

She was so stupid.

She should never have done what she’d did, she should never have let it go so far before she really had time to think it over.

She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully as she paused on one of the pages.

She hated that she couldn’t seem to shake the memories of the way he’d felt inside of her though. He’d been so strong, so hot, and so stern in the way he’d taken her. His rough touch had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The feeling of his mouth on hers’ had been so natural, like pieces of a puzzle coming together. She lost herself in the recollection of how she’d melted into his every thrust, his cock thick and his hips powerful.

Felicity’s eyes snapped open as she hurriedly turned the page.

She didn’t dare let herself drown in such thoughts.

It didn’t matter how much she’d enjoyed the act…she could never have it again. Not with the way she’d treated him, not with the way she’d fled from the situation so gracelessly.

Her eyes drew lazily over the page…and suddenly paused.

Her pupils danced over the type lying so innocently on the page.

_ Mr. Queen. _

Felicity felt her breath catch in her throat as she took a closer look.

Her stomach dropped.

Oliver was still making appointments…just not with  _ her. _

“Mr. Queen had an appointment tonight?” Felicity asked Anastasia slowly.

Anastasia perked up and nodded curiously.

“He did. He’s in a session with Violet as we speak. He…said you suggested that he not have sessions with you anymore. He seemed very gentlemanly about it.” Anastasia shrugged.

“Real handsome that one though. Was he too ornery? Oh lemme guess weird fetish you weren’t ok with? Like that one that had mommy issues and wanted to call his Mistress mother?” Anastasia chuckled.

Felicity frowned darkly.

“No. Nothing like that…” Felicity whispered.

Anastasia stopped her insistent typing and looked to Felicity with concern in her orbs.

“Oh?” Anastasia said curiously.

“I just…I know him…outside of…here. I…should have never done the one session. I figured it would only hurt things if I allowed for it to continue.” Felicity admitted slowly as she closed the folder gently.

Anastasia’s eyebrows raised and she leaned her chin in the cup of her palm.

“Is he giving you trouble?” Anastasia asked sternly.

“No. He’s not like that. I just…really made a mistake I think.” Felicity sighed.

Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted the women’s conversation.

Felicity’s eyes met with the man’s as he rounded the corner, the two gazes smashing together so suddenly she was pretty certain that for a moment her heart stopped. Oceanic blue eyes had her insides knotting.

Oliver seemed to pause as he saw her, his dress shoes coming to a halt at the large desk.

Anastasia popped up out of her chair, giving Felicity an apologetic expression as she awkwardly crossed the small space to address the blonde haired man.

“Mr. Queen, I hope your stay was to your liking, how will you be paying tonight?” Anastasia said, trying her best to sound chipper and cheerful.

Felicity’s eyes drew over Oliver’s stature. He looked relaxed, as if the weight of the world had been plucked right off his shoulders. He looked satisfied.

She knew that look.

She remembered when she was the cause of such an expression.

Instantly bile forced its way into her throat and her gut boiled with something she could only describe as jealousy. Though she really couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this. She’d driven him away. She had dug this grave and now she had to lay in it. She was left to suffer with the muddy aftermath of it all.

“Everything was perfect Anastasia. I’ll be paying with cash.” Oliver said flatly, clearly trying to avoid looking at Felicity.

It burned the back of his throat to see her there. To see her beautiful form strapped in all leather, her heels high and dangerous. It was like being tempted by an old, dirty habit. Except this habit was strikingly gorgeous. He hated the way her long lashes fanned her face, he hated how badly he wanted to bury himself within her taught core. He nearly doubled over with the need as it forced itself into his bones. He couldn’t shake how good she’d felt. He couldn’t push it all out of his head, no matter how he’d tried. He craved more, even though it was so painful to think about that night. There were so many nasty parts that he wished he could forget…but god there were so many glorious ones too. How warm she’d been, how lovely she’d sounded moaning his name…

Oliver rubbed at the back of his neck angrily as he pressed the thoughts aside.

These sessions were supposed to be helping him to forget…and it had been working…until now of course.

Seeing her just brought it all back.

Being so close to her in the foundry was hard enough, but this just absolutely broke him to pieces.

He was hurt, he was embarrassed, but mostly he was just angry. Angry he thought that anything could possibly come from the two of them. Angry that he’d let himself fall under her spell. Angry that against his better judgment he’d allowed himself such an indulgent thing.

“Goodnight Anastasia.” Oliver said with a fake smile as he paid and then made for the door.

Felicity found her courage and slowly walked around the desk, just as Oliver’s fingers curled on the front doorknob.

“Oliver…can we talk?” She managed to force the words from her maw.

Oliver paused, his shoulders dropping as he peered backward at the young woman.

“I’m afraid I’m tired Felicity and I just want to go home. As I said, goodnight ladies.” Oliver said flatly as he adjusted his coat and headed out into the night.

Felicity watched the door fall closed slowly and felt the emotion clawing up her throat.

She needed to fix this.

Felicity hugged her sweater to her shoulders, her eyes flicking down to the phone in her fingers. She shouldn’t really have been taking such drastic measures…yet here she was.

Maybe she should have just let things lay…but it was not her nature to do so. She wasn't exactly the type to just give in when things still needed tending to.

She’d never cared to ask where Oliver resided. It wasn’t her business.

But now it was.

It was her business to fix all that she had so stupidly broken.

She just couldn’t keep doing this dance with him. Avoiding each other as if they were each their own type of special plague. Get too close and the disease might just spread, fester and grow. Felicity had created this sickness and now she had to do everything in her power to cure it.

Even if the man never wanted her the way he’d wanted her that night again…at least she could make some sort of peace with him.

She looked down at the GPS on her cell and let her shoulders drop slightly.

The building before her was absolutely massive, luxurious didn’t really even begin to cover it. She rolled her eyes. Of course it was, she expected nothing less of Oliver Queen.

Felicity allowed herself entrance through the front door, shuddering as her body adjusted to the warmth of the indoor world. The chill of the night was left on the front stoop as she proceeded, feeling finally coming back to the tips of her fingers.

Her pace was brisk and determined as she came to the elevators and pressed the small button, the little thing illuminating brightly.

The ride to the fourth floor seemed like an eternity as she leaned against the back wall of the space. Her fingers tapped nervously against her arm.

Would Oliver just turn her away?

Slam the door in her face?

Honestly if she were in his position she might have considered it.

She just hoped he had it in him to understand why she had acted so rashly. She hadn’t meant to handle it so dreadfully. She’d been scared.

She wished with all her heart that he could find it in himself to forgive her. Or at least just hear her out.

She needed to talk about this. They needed to talk about it. For months it had sat in silence, creeping in the corners and slinking between the shadows. They left it alone to simmer and stew and grow into something disgusting and ugly. The longer they left it be…the fatter it got.

She couldn’t let this thing she’d created get any larger.

The chime of the elevator arriving at its floor nearly made the small woman jump right out of her skin. She grumbled to herself and exited quickly, her heels snapping against the carpeted hallway quickly.  

It was red and raw, blood dripping from the fat, luscious meat slowly. It was so healthy and thick as it dribbled down onto the platter beneath it. It was cold to the touch as Oliver plucked the heavy steak from its resting place and laid it down in the hot pan perched on the stovetop. The oil sizzled and popped with the offering of meat. The big man took a step back as he watched the liquid dance and lick at the slab. He ran his hands beneath a warm stream of water, washing the blood from his palms and then drying them on the towel hanging off the rack next to the sink.

He sucked in a heavy lungful of air as he fetched a dark bottle of whiskey from the nearest cabinet and dressed a short glass with exactly three cubes of ice. The liquid sloshed over the little clear squares, the objects clinking against the glass as he brought it greedily to his mouth.

In a few short swallows he drained the glass dry and refilled it without hesitation.

Getting drunk by himself, what a pathetic thing it all was.

He growled to himself and took a long draw of the expensive drink.

He needed something to take the edge off.

Tonight of all nights he really did.

He’d thought a session would be a good idea, to take some of the strain out of him. He’d always been careful to schedule on nights when Felicity was in sessions or off. He’d specifically arranged that with Anastasia.

So he wouldn’t have to see her, in that place…and be reminded of the temptation that still coursed through his veins.

He gritted his teeth and knocked back the rest of his drink.

His eyes slid closed as his mind wandered over how the young woman had looked standing there. All dressed in black, her corset latched so beautifully around her thin waist, so many buckles and clips, all so neatly arranged. She’d looked so deadly in her tight black panties and black garters, fishnet stockings running the lengths of her long, luxurious legs, her feet so perfectly tucked into those devilish heels.

His grip tightened on the little crystal cup as his thoughts traveled to just how wondrous those sinewy legs of her had felt wrapped around his waist.

He rumbled out a groan as he relished in it.

He took another sip.

He was just running himself in circles. He couldn’t keep holding onto those memories, as good as it had been, as drunk as it had gotten him…he had to let it go. She’d yanked his chain and then left him choking and he couldn’t shake the confused concoction of lust and anger deep down in his stomach.

Oliver grabbed the pair of tongs off the marble countertop angrily and flipped the thick steak over in its’ pan.

The smell of spices rose up to his nostrils and enveloped him like a long lost friend.

The sight of her had shaken him down to his core. He’d thought he’d gotten a hold of the itch, that he had wrestled it back into his control. But now he realized that he had done nothing but bury it in the dirt and hope that it rotted away.

Unlucky for him he hadn’t seemed to have dug a deep enough hole.

After leaving the meat on the stove for several minutes he stole it from the heat and gingerly set it on its own plate.

The big man yanked out a barstool from its place beneath the countertop and poured himself another drink. He couldn’t have her, and so he would swallow his pride and settle for booze and food instead.

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell reverberating out through the loft coursed shrilly through his ears. Oliver’s lazy eyes snapped to the door and he sighed. 

Who the hell would be at his door this late in the evening?

Thea most likely. 

He allowed his fork to clatter onto his plate before hefting himself up with a groan and shuffling across the spans of the living space.

Felicity stood with her hand leaned on the doorframe, silently debating if she should ring the doorbell a second time. She drew in a breath and hovered her finger over the button when suddenly the door clicked and slowly cracked open.

Felicity swallowed loudly as her eyes raked over the man standing before her.

Oliver filled the doorway, adorned in nothing more than a pair of baggy grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

His expression fell as he looked upon her, his eyes dark and angry.

“What are you doing here?” He grunted lowly.

Felicity interlocked her fingers nervously.

“I came to talk.” She whispered softly.

Oliver shifted his weight and tugged up the hem of his sweatpants slightly.

“I really don’t feel like talking.” He said in a deadpan manner.

Felicity nodded slightly.

“I know. I know you don’t want to talk…but please…please just hear me out. We have to talk about…what happened.” Felicity said in a near pleading manner.

Oliver’s expression only hardened at the suggestion.

“I really don’t think there is anything to say.” He snarled.

“Dammit Oliver please, I came to try and fix this ok?” Felicity hissed.

His eyes darted over the plains of Felicity’s face, the young woman looking scared and vulnerable.

A surge of guilt filled the big man.

Here he was letting her stand out in the hallway like she was some stranger. In the last three months he’d allowed her to become just that. But she wasn’t. She was a friend. Maybe everything had fallen apart in the worst of ways. Maybe Oliver had gotten a silly thing in his head and it hadn’t worked out…but that was no reason to keep pushing her away. She’d hurt him of course, and he was still bruised…but here she was trying to make amends. At least it was something.

Oliver sighed heavily and stepped back, offering her an invitation inside.

“Fine. Just…come inside.” Oliver huffed.

Felicity entered swiftly and awkwardly waited for Oliver to shut the door behind her.

“Sit…wherever you like.” Oliver grunted waving his hand toward the couch.

Felicity nodded and gently trotted over to the large leather couch, gracefully planting herself down on its’ cushions.

“You…want anything to drink?” He questioned gruffly.

Felicity shook her head slowly.

“No. I’m ok…thanks though…” Felicity replied.

With that Oliver slowly padded over to the large furniture, another drink carefully cradled in his hand. He breathed out heavily and plunked himself hesitantly down next to the blonde woman.

Felicity sighed and ruffled her hair.

“We can’t just keep avoiding each other.” Felicity breathed.

Oliver shrugged.

“I mean it sort of seemed like you wanted me to just leave you be…so I did. That’s all.” Oliver replied.

Felicity frowned and rested her elbows on her knees.

“Oliver…I am so sorry for how I handled this. I just…I was afraid.” Felicity sighed.

“So that makes it ok for you to do what you did?” He hissed.

Felicity shook her head vigorously.

“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I was wrong…really, really wrong. It’s just…the last time I tried to mix emotions in with a client it ended badly and I didn’t want to risk that…with me being on the team and all I felt like there was more at stake.” Felicity whispered.

“You had a relationship with a client?” Oliver questioned, tilting the drink to his lips.

Felicity nodded slowly.

“It was when I first started working at Crimson. He was charming and exciting, our sessions got more intimate…and we crossed a line that working Doms and clients really shouldn’t. Turned out that charisma we had together in the sessions didn’t carry over into a real relationship. It was messy and difficult. So I made myself a set of rules…don’t get emotionally involved with clients.” She explained.

Silence settled over them for a moment and she carefully stole a glance at the man sitting on the other side of the vast furniture.

“But that isn’t an excuse for how I treated you. It’s just been a long time…since I’ve felt this…”

Oliver tapped his index finger on the side of his drink.

“You still feel it?”

He just wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to hear her admit that she felt something too…even if she’d run from it, it was still there and he wasn’t crazy for still holding onto the hope that there was something between them.

“Yeah. You aren’t just a client, which just makes it so much harder to see where the line is, and determine when I’m crossing it. And it’s difficult not to feel…something. Dammit I’m such an idiot…” She rambled uselessly.

Felicity stared at him for a long moment.

“I’m sorry. I wish I’d approached this differently.” She whispered.

“Yeah well, we both kinda screwed this up huh?” Oliver admitted.

Felicity shook her head.

“We aren’t very good at this.” She chuckled halfheartedly.

“Well they don’t exactly write instruction manuals on how to start a relationship with the girl you brought on as a computer expert for your secret team of vigilantes who turns out to be a working dominatrix.” Oliver said with a slight grin.

Felicity snorted.

“Yeah I guess they don’t.”

“Can we…start this over? I mean I’m not asking you to overall forgive me right out of the gates…but I’d like to stop tiptoeing around each other.” Felicity said softly.

Oliver nodded and threw a genuine grin in the woman’s direction.

“If that’s what you want.”

Felicity’s eyes captured the dancing flames of the fire crackling softly in the stone place sitting before them.

“Yeah. That’s what I want.”

“Are you hungry?” Oliver asked suddenly.

Felicity was taken aback by the question and tilted her head to the side.

Truth be told she was famished. She hadn’t had time to make a stop at her own home before coming here. She was hungry, exhausted and in desperate need of a shower.

“I’m starving actually…I didn’t get a chance to eat after I got off work…or shower…so sorry ahead of time for that.” She said with a nervous laugh.

Oliver smiled.

“I just so happen to have an extra steak I can throw in the skillet for you. How do you like it done?” He offered genuinely.

Felicity let go of a heavy breath.

“Medium well…please.” 

Oliver lifted from his seated position and made his way to the open kitchen. Felicity’s eyes followed his every step, indulgently taking in each swell of exposed muscle on him. The bulk of him was enough to leave her mouth mimicking a barren wasteland and her palms feeling uncomfortably clammy. 

She scolded herself and tried to focus on literally anything else in the room but the attractive man now so intently cooking her a meal. 

Guilt rose in her throat.

Here she was having bruised the poor man and toyed carelessly with his emotions...and still he’d invited her into his home and offered her a steak dinner. 

She really didn't deserve the kindness he was so selflessly offering her. 

Beneath all the layers, the man was not emotionless. He may have put on a tough act, never giving away more than what was really needed...but deep down he was gentle. He was kind. 

She watched him intently as he flipped the steak, his posture relaxed and unhurried. 

She was suddenly very aware that she was witnessing something that not very many were allowed to see. She was experiencing Oliver with all of his walls down. This was his home, his safe place. A shelter where he was absent of his expensive businessman attire, where the leather of The Arrow’s uniform had no place. Here he was nothing more than just a man. Just Oliver, and nothing more. 

He had welcomed her into his safe haven. He had trusted her enough to allow her to stay here a while.

Felicity tilted her head back slowly, resting her crown against the plush couch, trying her best to keep her breathing level. She almost hated that he wasn’t angrier at her. He really should have been. She deserved at least that much of a punishment.

She allowed her lids to slide closed for a moment, calming herself down and forcing her mind to stop it’s futile racing.

The sound of ceramic being placed on the coffee table before her had her eyes snapping back open.

Oliver gingerly set a long stemmed glass of red wine next to her plate and the woman gave him a questioning look.

The man shrugged and returned to the kitchen to fetch his own plate.

“Steak always goes better with wine.” He said flatly.

The big man settled himself down on the furniture once more, very obviously leaving a healthy amount of space between himself and his company.

Felicity forced an awkward smile and nodded.

“I probably need a glass after the night I’ve had.” She sighed as she accepted the offering and brought the delicate glassware to her full lips.

Oliver’s expression was hard and concerned suddenly.

“Everything ok?” He asked bluntly.

Felicity nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Tonight’s just my difficult client, I never exactly look forward to it.” She sighed.

The moment the information left her mouth she regretted it. Here she was trying to make peace with the man sitting next to her, talk of her other clients was most likely the last thing he wanted to hear.

Oliver’s eyes darkened.

“Difficult how?” He said shortly.

She could see how the man tensed with the conversation.

“He’s just hard to manage. Nothing I can’t handle. He’s just…needy.” Felicity said quickly.

She wasn’t about to go into details about how the man nearly always tried to pester her into a date with him after sessions. She wasn’t going to explain how many times she’d had to remind Mr. Taggart that she didn’t have emotional relationships with clients.

All the while here she was trying to mend that very same problem.

The stupid act of getting more attached to a client than what was intelligent.

“Then stop having sessions with him.” Oliver grunted.

Felicity sighed.

“He’s a regular, he pays well and he really hasn’t done anything too terribly awful. I can manage him most nights.” Felicity huffed.

“It wasn’t hard to tell me you couldn’t have sessions with me anymore, shouldn’t be hard to tell him the same.” He said flatly.

Felicity paused as she cut her steak open, a curl of disgust twisting down the length of her spine.

“That was different.” She said finally.

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it like that.” Oliver sighed with a shake of his head.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders up.

“No. I deserved to hear that. I…really hurt you. I just thought keeping away from all of that would…make it easier on you.” She replied softly.

“But…sessions with Violet…they’re ok?” She continued.

Oliver didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“It helps get my mind off of things, yeah.” He said finally.

“She’s not as hard as you were...unfortunately.”

Felicity smiled against her wine glass.

“I take that as a compliment.” She chuckled.

This pulled a bit of light laughter from the man next to her and she could feel some of the awkward tension sliding off her shoulders.

Maybe they would be ok.

Maybe  _ this  _ would be ok.

She had no idea where they stood, or what was to come. She didn’t know what the definition of this strange encounter was, or how to describe the feelings deep down in her stomach. But they didn’t feel as dangerous as she’d made them out to be.

There was fear, there was hesitation, and there was strain…but none of it felt as heavy.

She had rolled it over in her mind for months. She’d gone over every aspect of right and wrong and good and bad. She had looked at it from every possible angle. It terrified her how heavy the attraction still was. How much she still wanted the man, even if it was crossing every line she had ever drawn.

Maybe breaking her rules wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

Sitting here, sharing small laughter over dinner it all seemed so…effortless.

Hours later Felicity sat with her knees curled up on the fine leather of the couch, her third glass of wine cradled carefully in her fingertips.

Their conversation died down slowly as Oliver rocked his drink in his hand and leaned back into the cushions, shifting his weight slightly.

The room felt undeniably less uncomfortable with the time spent together. It had been so long since they had had really enjoyed each other’s company. Suddenly they weren’t stumbling over sentences when trying to talk to one another, after so many months it was a simple task once more.

Oliver’s gaze rested on the gorgeous way her face was illuminated by the firelight, her smile soft and genuine as she made herself so at home, even in his company.

She looked comfortable.

Comfortable with her surroundings, with  _ him. _

“So Violet isn’t tough enough for you huh?” Felicity giggled suddenly.

Oliver grinned.

“She just always seems to be holding back. You didn’t. You give punishment like you’ve got something to prove…I’ve never had anybody cane me like that.” He chortled.

He closed his eyes gently, as if relishing in the memory of the unbridled round of punishment.

“It was  _ so  _ good.”

Felicity felt her cheeks fill with subtle color.

“Well, in her defense she doesn’t exactly know you run around the city getting walloped on by baddies on a regular basis. I sort of figured The Arrow was going to need a little more than a light flogging.” She said playfully.

The two were lost in a fit of laughter at the commentary.

Finally the giggles quieted and Oliver was left staring at the young woman, a smile still clinging to his lips.

“You are really beautiful…you know that?” He said suddenly.

Felicity felt her heart stutter in the cage of her chest.

“I-Uh…thanks?” She stammered.

Oliver seemed to realize the comment had gone just a little too far and he sighed.

“Sorry…” He coughed as he looked down at his empty drink.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink…”

The excuse sounded ridiculous as soon as it had left his lips.

He mentally scolded himself for ever saying anything at all.

Felicity looked to the large clock hanging on the wall to her left and groaned.

“Is it really three?” She grumbled ruffling her hair.

Oliver nodded.

“I…have a spare bedroom if you don’t feel like calling a cab this late.” He offered slowly.

Felicity seemed to ponder the offering hesitantly and breathed out heavily.

“It is a good thirty minute ride back to my apartment…you really don’t mind?” She huffed.

Oliver shook his head and offered her a gentle smile.

“C’mon I’ll show you the guest bedroom.” He replied as he lifted himself with a groan.

Felicity set her glass down softly and followed behind the dirty blonde, leaving her heels in an abandoned heap by the coffee table. She looked back at the forgotten  dishes with a frown and Oliver seemed to take notice.

“I’ll get them in the morning. Don’t worry about it.” He reassured.

Her bare feet slapped the wooden floor gently as she allowed him to lead her, flicking on lights as they went. Oliver paused and gently illuminated the room to their right, standing in the doorframe as he looked to the shorter woman.

“The sheets are clean and the bathroom is two doors down to the left. Extra blankets are in the third drawer.”

Felicity nodded and slowly entered the large room, her eyes sweeping over the vast space. The bed was lined with far too many pillows, the comforters large and billowing. It was grand in every sense of the word.

She stopped and turned to the man still lingering at the mouth of the room.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asked before she could stop the words from coming forth.

Oliver didn’t seem very phased by the question.

“There’s no point in being hostile.” He said simply.

Felicity groaned.

“I just…thought you’d slam the door in my face…instead you fed me dinner, let me drink that expensive wine…and now you’re offering me a room to stay in for the night.” She snorted.

“I mean seriously could you stop being such a nice guy?” She followed up with a small laugh.

Oliver’s lips broke in a jovial grin.

“Goodnight Felicity.” He chuckled before heading off down the hall.


	8. In Your Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm not dead. Just had to take a break for a while due to college finals! And the fact that I am now a college graduate. I'm a goddamned educated woman now. Here's some smut to celebrate! huzzah!

It was a ghost of a touch. Something light enough to be considered a figment of the imagination at first impression. Such a lazy drag of fingertips across sensitive flesh. Just enough to cause an epidemic of goosebumps to run rampant down the length of his forearm. 

It was so gentle, so experimental, hesitant in the way it was carried out. Just dipping its’ toes into the surface of the water, testing the limitations of the voyage. 

At first his lethargic brain simply wrote the sensation off as part of a very vivid dream. But then delicate digits were joined by the press of a palm and its warmth was enough to convince him it was real. 

The lack of malice in the experience was the only thing that kept him from acting in defense as soon as he was stirred from slumber. 

It mimicked the gentle shake of a shoulder to rouse someone from sleep on a Sunday morning. It was easy and unhurried, not forceful or insistent. 

His eyes rolled open lethargically, vision blurred against the darkness of the room swallowing him.

The confusion of traveling from the state of slumber back to reality consumed him whole, making his motions dull and disorderly.

He blinked once, twice, three times, trying to force the sleep from the corners of his eyes and regain control of his senses. The simple touch of fingers became something far more, as the digits were joined by the rest of the form they belonged to.

Weight settled unabashedly across his hips, the warmth from the other body’s thighs very slowly seeping into his.

He could barely pick apart her outline in the smooth ebony of his surroundings, the whites of her eyes twinkling in the shadow like bright opals. She didn’t move for a long while, simply observed him, teased him with her presence alone. 

She was something come out of the dark spaces of his room and she had invited herself into the intimate space of his bed.

A smile painted across her features, the corners of her mouth reaching the bottoms of her eyes as she offered him the genuine expression.

His palm came to explore the woman spread across him, taking hold of a healthy handful of her full backside. Fingers clenched the doughy flesh and he was rewarded with a dreamy sigh that caused his spine to tingle.

She leaned over him like some big cat, all grace and power, hands finding home on the big swells of his chest. He rumbled out a vulnerable sound and she lapped it up like liquid gold.

The thing that came out of the dark, she didn’t waste time with running him in circles. She knew why she had crept out of the shadows. She knew what she had come for. Her lips brought electricity with them and as soon as they touched his and he was consumed by the spark. Her mouth was hungry as it covered his, tongue bullying his lips apart with determination. Teeth clacked together and chins tilted farther toward one another as if they were both starving. She wouldn’t be sated until she’d gotten a sample of his very soul. She was searching for it in the hard kiss, her slender hands pressing into his temples as she moved like as surging wave against him.

She did not part from the indulgent action, too busy savoring the flavor of him to break the moment apart. Her digits traveled the length of his heaving torso, sliding over the scar ravaged skin in a teasing way that had him coming apart at the seams of his existence.

A well-practiced hand pushed the over worn material of his sweatpants down just far enough to allow his cock to bounce free and settle over his stomach. He moaned against her maw and she swallowed the sound whole, greedy for everything that he was feeding her. She was a glutton for the sounds of him falling apart.

Her lips pressed to the round of his ear, hot and wet with the evidence of their frantic kiss.

“I’m going to  _ break you. _ ” She whispered to him huskily.

His fingers tightened their hold on her rear end, nails digging into absolutely pristine, pastel white skin.

He should have sensed the danger dripping from her canines. He should have known the risk hiding so innocently behind her well laced words.

There were so many things she could break. She could break his heart, break his spirit, and break his world. She could break him down then build him up, only to destroy him all over again. She could break him in the worst of ways and she could break him in the best of ways.

In that moment…that fleeting second in time, he didn’t care which way she chose to tear him apart. He just wanted her. He wanted  _ inside  _ of her. It didn’t matter that it might leave him in pieces after the fact. The present time was all his struggling brain could possibly worry about. The moments after were far off thoughts in the muddied thing that was his mind. The animalistic need took priority over everything else.

“ _ Please…”  _ He rasped hoarsely.

It was like asking disaster to come in and take him. He  _ wanted  _ it to come. He welcomed it in like a long lost companion and he couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else. His throbbing cock and racing heart whispered devious little instructions in his eardrums and he followed like a desperate dog thirsty for water.

With a rock of her hips his length was sliding against the slick of her want, a sickeningly gorgeous sound tumbling off her tongue and causing what was left of his better judgment to scatter and hide beneath the rug.

He was barely aware of her light laughter.

She dangled what he wanted most just out of reach for several long, tantalizing seconds. He couldn’t seem to conjure up anything close to words, and so he begged with his body instead. Strong hips rolled skyward, pressing himself against her impatiently.

He followed her pearly smile in the dark before she very slowly seated herself down upon him.

He made a winded sound, like the very breath had been ripped right out of his lungs.

She tossed her head back as her palms steadied on the spans of his pectorals, allowing all of him to sink into her taut core.

She cursed into the warm air, the phrases coming out breathless and dripping with enthuse.

He could feel her tense... soft, wet, walls tightened around the breadth of him and caused his eyes to glaze.

He moaned a soft declaration of her name and she ate it up without hesitation.

The control, the moment, the man…it was all hers’.

A creature or a queen he really wasn’t sure which one she was yet…but all the same he allowed her to wrap herself around him and strangle the strength right out of his being.

Her hips pivoted and dipped smoothly, the motion stealing the breath from his core. She lifted and thrust, her thighs taking on most of the work. Her muscles were strong and her body was lithe as she rocked and swayed mimicking a ship at sea. 

It was all hot puffs of breath, sharp inhales and frantic hands grabbing whatever hold they could find. It was names whispered on thick tongues, it was sighs and sweat and eyelids screwed shut. 

She was like velvet as she thrust him into her core, everything viciously tight and wet. The sloppy sounds of bodies coming together so frantically kissed at his ears. He was absolutely lost in the tangle of sheets, in the scattered pillows, in  _ her.  _

Orgasm loomed in the pit of his abdomen, clawing up from the depths of his gut and making itself known. It would not let the attention be drawn away from it. It was dark and thick as it pooled there like a molten heat, searing him, owning him and eating him alive. 

His teeth clenched hard enough to set a deep ache in the back of his jaw and his meaty palms anchored on the curve of her hips. 

Blonde locks fell in disheveled cascades over her bare shoulders, a sheen of perspiration glittering on the delicate skin. 

He couldn't think, he couldn't control it, they had set fire to the very bed they’d found home in and there was no dousing it now. 

He pleaded to her, he prayed to her and he whispered blind promises to her. 

His finish shadowed over him, it's claws sinking into the soft of his belly. He let it come for him, allowed the thickness to wash over his tensed muscles willingly. 

He was so close. 

His stomach clenched, his fingers dug deep divots in her pretty sides. 

He wasn't even breathing, his mouth hanging open in a weak oval. 

 

And then suddenly his blue eyes snapped open. 

He sat straight up in the midst of his bed, confusion bombarding through his struggling brain. His eyes darted around the room, searching frantically for what had been there only mere moments before. 

He hissed and shielded his eyes as his tender pupils were met with the unforgiving rays of new morning piercing through his bedroom curtains. 

The gorgeous woman was gone, the heated moment was gone. He was left with only his labored breathing and beads of sweat prickling at his hairline. 

He shoved the overbearing comforters off his hips and sucked in a shaky breath. 

His chest was glistening with moisture, his body flushed and uncomfortable. Immediately he became aware of the sticky sensation settled between his thighs. 

“Goddammit…” He snarled lowly. 

A fucking wet dream? 

Like a goddamned teenager with no self control.

He shook his head angrily and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. Frustrated fingers shoved the dirtied clothing down his powerful hips and discarded them in the hamper by the bathroom door. 

He allowed himself a shower, fingers scrubbing away the embarrassment vigorously. There was not enough shampoo in the bottles lining the marble shelf to wash away the uncomfortable feeling in his gut. 

He pressed his palms against his sockets as if trying to shake the thoughts out of his stubborn head. 

It had all felt so vividly real. Her hands upon his chest, her breathless sighs, the press of her lips on his stubble ridden jaw...it left a smarting sensation along his flesh. Every touch had felt like so much more than a dream. 

Her warmth was still radiating on his skin, her breath still whispering in his ear. 

He was losing it. 

After scrubbing himself raw he angrily turned the knobs off and slung a towel around his waist. He pulled on a pair of simple athletic shorts and stood in the mouth of his bedroom. His eyes hesitantly fell on the bed laid out to his right. A warm heat traveled the roadmap of his spine as he imagined the scene that had played out in the confines of his dream. 

He sighed. 

Was this his brain just trying to spite him? 

He wasn't exactly keen on it spewing up lewd imagery of what he wanted but couldn't have. That was just adding insult to injury. 

He groaned. 

His heavy footsteps echoed out through the silence of the home as he made his way down the length of the hallway. His movements slowed as he approached the guest bedroom, his throat tightening in a way he wasn't accustomed to. 

He was letting something as ridiculous as a dream stir him. 

How petty.

Oliver cautiously peered through the threshold, his palm resting on the frame as his eyes swept the room. His eyebrows knitted together.

To his surprise he found the room to be empty. The bed was left made, the pillows all set in their proper order and the blankets folded on the edge of the frame. 

The big man wandered farther into the home, discovering the bathroom and kitchen to be vacant of life as well.

Oliver sauntered to the large marble countertop and sighed heavily. 

The vile sensation of disappointment crept into his esophagus and made swallowing feel sticky and uncomfortable. 

Had she just left? 

Without a single word? 

Maybe she wasn't done running just yet. Her feet were still determined to get her as far away from him as possible. 

Oliver ran a frustrated palm through his sandy locks.

It was only then that he noticed the dirtied dishes left out on the coffee table the night before had vanished. 

The dishwasher hummed gently in the vast kitchen, signifying that a new load of dishes had been inserted not long ago. 

His eyes halted on the discovery of a small piece of paper tucked beneath the dish he normally dropped his keys in after coming home each evening. 

A note.

The little thing was scrawled out on the back of an envelope that had once belonged to some junk mail advertisement. 

He very carefully plucked it from its’ resting place and instantaneously his sullen expression was exchanged for an amused half grin. Just from glancing at it he could make out who the neat, perfect handwriting belonged to. 

_ “Some of us still have to go to work early in the morning. Didn't want to wake you. I put the dishes in the dishwasher. Thank you for letting me stay over, I’ll see you tonight!”  _

Oliver gingerly set the envelope back down on the countertop and let go of a relaxed breath. 

Things weren't exactly mended, and maybe they were only being held together by tape and glue...but he felt like this was a step in the right direction. 

**Two Weeks Later:**

The deafening sound throbbed through his being with enough strength to awaken excitement even in the deepest depths of a human being. The music pulsated into his bones and throbbed through his ears like a living thing, wild and untamed.

The dark space was illuminated by strobe lights and flickering beams hanging from the rafters of the large club.

He breathed in deep, mentally debating if he was going to allow himself a drink or not.

His lazy eyes scanned the swollen crowd, the space around him filled with people. Men and women danced and rutted together, their bodies sweaty with the movements and the packed nature of the room. It was an utterly animalistic endeavor honestly. The act of it all was viciously primal. They allowed the loud music to take them away like prisoners to its’ wishes. They followed along like puppets on strings, acting more like beasts than beings.

But that was what the nightlife was for he supposed.

It was this sacred thing where even the most properly put together person could unzip their normalcy and let their wild come forth. They shed the mask of everyday life and opted to run the streets like heathens instead.

Oliver sighed and sauntered to the bar.

He supposed a drink would help pass the time.

Honestly he didn’t want to be here, there were far more important things that could have used his attention…but he supposed he had to play ‘boss’ every once and awhile to the grand club.

Verdant pounded with life, with sound and movement.

It was a viciously profitable business. Any club owned by one of the Queen’s was going to attract attention…and so it had.

He could have been out on the city, chasing down the filth that lurked in the streets…but here he was. He couldn’t exactly go back on his word, he’d promised both Felicity and Diggle the night off. He knew they needed it. They had been working themselves down to the bone, he knew they deserved a break. A break from the foundry, a break from his constant barking orders.

He ordered his drink and the bartender delivered it to his big fingers.

He knew he’d been a bit on edge the last several weeks.

The drink warmed him all the way down to his gut as he took a long swallow.

He hadn’t set foot in the front doors of Crimson in almost two weeks…ever since the night he’d seen Felicity there, the night that she’d showed up at his front door…it hadn’t been the same. He just couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy the sessions with his Mistress the way he wanted to.

He didn’t want Violet…he wanted his Mistress Smoke.

He lusted after her heavy hand, the way she talked to him in that sultry smooth voice.

He longed after her punishment…that specific kind that got underneath the many layers of his skin. He just couldn’t get that with Violet. She didn’t claw her way into his core the way Felicity had.

His lids fell closed, allowing himself a self- indulgent moment to bask in the way that Felicity’s eyes had burned scars into his flesh. He could never forget the strength in her walk and the piercing fire in her eyes. She had all his attention and more.

What he wouldn’t do to have that all over again.

His lids parted ever so slowly and he drowned his want in the pool of his beverage.

He suddenly became aware that he had company.

The slender brunette glided into his personal space without a moment's’ hesitation. Her lean form was carried on stunning silver heels that matched the earrings that dangled from her lobes, the little pieces of jewelry sparkling in the lights of the nightclub.

“Oliver Queen…” She purred.

He’d only just run his gaze over her a single time and he knew her intentions. She brought nothing but trouble with her in that tight fitted dark dress of hers’.

Oliver nodded toward her and offered a polite smile to go with it.

“I wouldn’t have thought I would find you of all people here…” She began as she took a step closer, trapping Oliver between the bar and the bustle of the rest of the room.

“And I definitely didn’t think I would find you here drinking alone.” She continued.

Oliver managed a dry laugh.

“Sometimes all the company someone needs is a drink.” He retorted slowly.

The woman’s lips parted in an overly confident, leisurely smile and Oliver knew she was not going to be easily shaken.

“I think someone like yourself could use a little more company than just that glass.” She said cheekily.

He could feel the warmth of her palm against his bicep and outwardly he smiled, but internally he grimaced. Five years ago he would have already been calling a taxi and whisking the stunning woman away by the crook of her arm. He’d have captured her with a charming grin and several lines he’d used far too many times. He’d have told her well recited jokes and tempted her into his sheets. He’d have had her wrapped around his fingers like beautiful thread, bound tight and secure.

But now, he had little interest in what she had to offer.

One night stands did nothing to sate his appetite.

They were sloppy, useless and not worth his precious time.

They’d become vastly less interesting to him since his feelings for the beautiful blonde had come to light. If it wasn’t with her, he found himself not wanting it at all. It was absolutely foolish to allow himself to get so hung up on someone that was as flighty as a nervous rabbit. If he so much as moved in just the wrong way it could send her darting away from him.

The dance they were doing was intricate and unhealthy and yet he just couldn’t will his feet to stop. If she was still dancing, he was still determined to match her footwork.

The tall brunette’s hands were now pressed against his chest as she moved in closer.

He could smell the soft hints of her perfume and it was all wrong.

He didn’t want the subtle hints of vanilla. He wanted that sharp, thick lavender scent that always radiated from Felicity’s delicate skin.

He smiled at the appropriate moments in conversation, allowing the woman to hang off of him but never really giving much to her. She was trying so very hard and he could tell she was used to her target's falling all over themselves just to have a sliver of her precious time. He was sure she had suitors lining up just to feel the warmth of her skin, just to earn a hint of a smile from her.

He almost felt guilty for how disinterested he was.

But she wasn’t  _ her. _

She wasn’t his Felicity.

The woman laughed and tilted her drink to her lips, clearly determined to gather his attention.

As she chattered on, Oliver looked past her into the crowd for a mere moment. His eyes grazed the mass of bodies in a lazy swipe…and then stopped dead.

His orbs widened and immediately the rush of anticipation climbed its way to his throat. An instant stir of excitement surged through him like a gunshot wound to the chest. He’d taken the full round and was left helpless from the blow.

There she was, in the crowd, sauntering through the moving beings as if she were swimming through water. Her golden locks were tousled and wrangled up into a bold bun. Tendrils fell from the mass of hair in a way that was wild and sophisticated and dangerously attractive.

Her bold red dress was like a beacon through the packed room, its’ color capturing Oliver’s attention and holding it prisoner. The tight dress hugged her every beautiful curve like a second skin, the neckline dipping low between her supple breasts, showing off a proud ‘v’ of skin that had the back of his neck prickling with heat.

Her heels were hazardously high, but the way she moved in them was an art in itself. It wasn’t walking really, it was almost insulting to call it something so mundane as that…it was  _ floating.  _ Each step was powerful and purposeful, her pace never faltering as it carried her across the large room.

The way she sorted through the people around her very carefully gave homage to the fact that she seemed to be looking for someone.

Oliver’s heart sank.

Was she meeting someone here?

A date perhaps?

A ping of dread sulked its way through his form.

He shouldn’t have felt that way about it, they weren’t together and she had every right to date whomever she wished. But he didn’t want that. He was going to be selfish in this instance. He didn’t want to see her with someone else.

He would accept it either way…but that didn’t mean he wanted that to be the outcome.

And then her blue eyes caught hold of his from across the spans of the room.

As soon as the collision of gazes took place a glorious smile broke across her cheeks and he knew that in fact he was the person she was searching for. He could tell by the way her feet then began to carry her directly toward him, by the way her gaze never left his, and by the glisten of excitement in her pupils.

That alone had his heart aching, the fact that she actually got genuine enjoyment over being in his presence again.

Oliver turned his attention toward the brunette that had pressed herself in far too close to him.

“Excuse me, I have someone I’m meeting with. It was nice talking to you.” Oliver said with a quick, half-assed, smile, before he took his leave.

The woman looked utterly confused as the big man clacked his drink against the bar top and pushed gently past her. Her expression molded from confusion to slight annoyance as she quickly saw who the man was making his way towards.

Another woman.

Her lips downturned into an unhappy snarl.

Felicity swayed toward the familiar man, her eyes brightening as she soaked him in.

“I thought I told you to take the night off.” Oliver teased gently as she got close enough for him to lean down and talk into her ear.

“I  _ am  _ taking the night off.” She chuckled.

“You think I’d actually wear clothes like these to the foundry!? That’s just a waste. The only ones who would see me in it is you and Diggle.” She joked back.

Oliver chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be complaining.” He shrugged.

She lightly shoved his shoulder.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

“I just figured I might come visit you at work. All I ever see of this place is the basement. Turns out it’s kind of the hot spot to be on a Saturday night huh?” She smiled.

“So who’s doe eyes over there? She looks highly disappointed that you are talking to me…I mean I’m not interrupting something am I?” Felicity said suddenly, her eyes flicking to the brunette still at the bar and then to Oliver.

Oliver grimaced.

“No. You are definitely not interrupting. More like saving me actually.” Oliver sighed.

Felicity snorted.

“Ohhhh. Oliver Queen being harassed by beautiful women huh. Pretty typical.” She said with a light laugh.

Oliver offered her an un-amused glare.

“C’mon big guy, I’ll save you.” She giggled as she entwined her arm around Oliver’s.

The sensation of her far more slender arm entwining around the crook of his elbow sent familiar warmth through him. She acted as if she belonged there, simply taking hold of him and steering him in the direction she wished.

She damn sure knew he’d follow her wherever those no doubt expensive heels wanted him to go.

The man seemed to hesitate ever so slightly when Felicity turned toward the nearest booth as if pondering making it their destination. Her eyebrows pressed together in that overly thoughtful little way that made his heart swell with something he could only describe as admiration. It was an annoying little emotion as he’d come to find. Something nagging and never quite out of sight and mind. A buzzing in his ears that was just loud enough to be bothersome.

She smiled in understanding.

They’d not even said two words to one another and she’d managed to make out an entire silent conversation just by reading the lines of his facial expression. He was tired of the pulsing music, the moving people and the flashing lights. He was just tired.

That exchange was a slight bit concerning to the big man.

Before he could hang on the thought for too long the young woman was leaning in to the shell of his ear. It took everything in him not to go weak at the knees just from her closeness.

“What do you say we get out of here? There’s a really good food truck in my neighborhood. How does beer and hotdogs sound?” She offered genuinely.

Oliver let his shoulder drop and smiled slowly.

“That sounds amazing.” He replied.

 

 


End file.
